#breathe pea breathe *sends over air*

[thinkingnot]

you stay right there too pea!! >:)!!!

i’d care if the person i reblogged this from vanished

idc if you reblog this from me but reblog it every time you see one of your friends or mutuals have reblogged it

[danikamariewrites]

Hi! I’m in LOVE with your blog! Would you be able to write something with nessian x reader where the reader has just an awful no good day/week and maybe something small sets her off and they comfort her and calm her down? I have had a very bad week and I had a whole breakdown over dropping a pen lol and I wish they had been there to comfort me. Anyways, I hope you have an amazing day!!!

Just A Bad Day

Nessian x reader

a/n: They would be so sweet and caring, especially Cass my fav gentle giant☺️ also I’m so sorry this feels very boring/typical. I might take a break for a few days bc this slump is killing me.

warnings: slight angst

Slamming the front door an angry sigh escapes your lips. You head staright to your personal bedroom wanting space from your mates. If you saw anyone right now you might yell at them.

Not even bothering to take your boots off you flop on the bed face down. Grabbing your pillow you stuff your face into the feathery soft fabric letting out a blood curdling scream.

You screamed and screamed and screamed until there was no air left in your lungs. Until your throat burned. Throwing the pillow as hard as you could against the headboard you flop back down on the bed.

Why are people so difficult to deal with? Today made you never want to speak with the governors or the general public ever again. You don't know if you just weren't communicating properly or what. But everyone was stupid and deserves to have a bad day. Not you.

After an hour of laying in bed you decided your throat was tortured enough and that cold water was necessary. Making your way down the stairs Nesta and Cassian's mixed scents hit you. It didn't calm you or anger you. You felt nothing but the exhaustion slowly creeping into your bones.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you open the cup cabinet. Frowning, you realize the glass you want is on a higher than usual self. Not feeling like asking Cassian to get it for you you strech up on your tip toes, grasping at the edge of the shelf. As your mind wandered to Cassian's usual teasing remarks about your height you get angrier.

The glass was just out of reach. Just a hair's breadth away from your finger tip. Your nail finally catches on the glass, bringing it forward. You finally grasp it with between your fingers and pull it down.

The glass slips from between your pointer finger and thumb. Your other hand reacts thanks to your fae reflexes, landing safely in your palm. You turn on your heel a little too quickly, sending the glass flying out of your grasp. It hits the wall shattering far too loudly.

Your hands go to cover your ears instantly. Tears pricking your eyes. You try to tune out the muffled sounds of Cassian and Nesta’s worried voices followed by their footsteps. Your face quickly contorted in anger. Angry at yourself. At the fucking glass. At your mates.

Your fingers tug at your hair in frustration. Your eyes are so clouded by tears you don’t even see Cassian in front of you. He gently takes your hands in his large ones. Slightly pressing his thumbs into your palms to lessen the death grip on the roots of your hair.

“Hey,” he coos, “what’s going on sweet pea?” You don’t look at him. Keeping your eyes down so you don’t break at the look of pity on their faces. Nesta hooks a finger under your chin, pulling your face up to look at them. The sad frowns on their lips broke you. The last thing you wanted to do today was upset or disappoint your mates.

Nesta took in a sharp breath at the projection of your feelings through the bond. “Oh, sweetheart. We’re not upset with you at all.” She wraps her arms tightly around your shoulders, swaying you gently. At Nesta’s loving embrace you break down. Sobs shaking your body.

Cassian smoothed your hair talking you through your tears. “I’m sorry.” You choked out repeatedly through your sobs. After hearing enough Cassian pulls you into his arms to carry you upstairs. Sitting you in his lap you continue to cry into his chest.

Nesta finally joins she has the glass of ice water you’ve been dying for. Just like Cassian taught her Nesta began massaging the pressure point on the back of your neck. She wanted to do everything to prevent your eventual headache.

When your tears finally stopped you took deep shaky breaths. They were coming too fast making the simple task difficult. Cassian laid you flat on the sheets to give you space. “Slow down, y/n. In for five and out for five.” He began to breathe with you until you finally calmed down. “Thank you,” you whisper.

You grabbed their hands so they can hold you up. Nesta hands you the water which you immediately gulp down. The cool liquid soothing your throat. Once it was empty Nesta took it from your hand. You lean into Cassian, resting your hand against his chest. Your fingers toy with the old fabric of his shirt to ground you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Nesta coos. You shake your head mumbling, “Just a bad day.” “Do you want to talk about it?” You sniffle and shake your head. “No. That cry was good enough, honestly.” A short humorless laugh escapes your lips. Cassian kisses the top of your head letting out a small hum in answer. “Let’s get you some dinner and relax, yeah?” You nod again. Cassian lifts you again, carrying you downstairs.

[charles-leclerizz]

EPISODE 01 : Start your engine

🏁 EPISODE AGE RATING : U/A 16+ [contaings swearing]

🏁 GENRE : Drama, Action, Sports, Romance

🏁 WORD COUNT : 10 K [ 10 , 366 WORDS ]

🏁 MUSIC SUMMARY : THE GREATEST BY SIA, PUMPT IT - BLACK EYED PEAS

🏁 CREDIT [S] : "BEHIND THE SCENES" BANNER, NETFLIX PLAY BAR BY ME [@charles-leclerizz], TEXT DIVIDERS BY @cafekitsune

🏁 TAGS : MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon], OTHERS [@weekendlusting, @woozarts, @mellowarcadefun, @paintedbypoetry, @33-81, @kazuha-pista-badam, @inejghafawifesblog,d3kstar], IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK !

DIRECTORS CUT : first episode children, better get soome snacks and a drink, and i highly reccomend looking at the masterlist, aisha's profile and the porsche f1 team links, since they will explain everything. It is also recommendeed you first read the trailer, which is once again found on the masterlist below.

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

The opening credits of the series begin to play, revealing bold block letters reading,

“Bahrain 2025”

And in the background, the black fades to reveal an aerial view of the landmark circuit, a staple of the history that defines Formula One. As the shot zooms in, we see the morning mist rolling over the grey, freshly re-laid tarmac of the track leading up to the garages of each of the 10 teams, most of them shutdown and blocked away from prying eyes. Though, as the camera moves forward, the view widens and we can see at the very end of the line, the Porsche garage emitting a yellow glow.

The acrylic entrance leaks hues of gold whilst we finally approach the opening where we see Aisha jumping in place, a set of Bose x Porsche headphones sat on her ears, the white body and metallic automobile logo on the muffs bouncing with her movements.

She looks up from her focussed point beneath her, facing the camera that zooms in and captures the determined flare within the pools of her eyes.

 The music, already beginning its powerful bass bursts, dims and briefly we can hear her laboured breathing as she stretches her hands above her and unzips the tight athleisure jacket that she had worn previously for warmth. The adidas logo crumples as she throws it away, revealing a cropped sports bra, white with grey stripes at the sides containing an embroidered Porsche logo on her left breast.

Soon enough, the music comes blaring back and the camera merely turns to follow her body as she begins to run away from the safety of her team enclosure. The scene ends with her exiting the shot, running down the initial straight of the first ever track she will race as a formula one driver.

“Aisha, what drives you in the world of Formula One?” A deep, cryptic voice off camera asks the driver sitting in shot. She smiles menacingly and leans back against her seat, her hands planted on her elegantly crossed legs as she adjusts the low cut, ‘V’ collar of her waistcoat, the colour matching the iconic Porsche guards’ red, of the rest of her risqué pantsuit.

“What drives me?” She chuckles, a low, raspy amusement that reverberates against the stormy backdrop behind her, “The competition, the domination, it runs in my blood;” She leans forward, as if the camera crew were privy to her obvious need to achieve. Aisha’s thin, golden bangles on each of her wrist’s jingle as she goes to adjust her volumous hair, “it’s not about the winning, it’s about obliterating the finish line.” She shrugs nonchalantly, despite the aggressive competitiveness that crackles in the air.

The voice chuckles at her threatening demeanour, yet continues, “Some media outlets commented on your driving style, since F2 and F3. They say it’s violent. What’s your response?”

Aisha bites her lip, thinking on the best way to diplomatically answer the question, despite her need to curse the people who doubted her.

Instead, she sighs with faux disappointment and her wide, mascara rimmed eyes move down to her rouge and gold nails whilst one of her fingers comes to slip beneath the platinum stud that sits comfortably on the left of her nose.

“Violent?” She asks, her voice barely above a murmur, “They could’ve been more descriptive.” She rolls her eyes once before inhaling, “Try...relentless. When I’m on track, behind the wheel, it’s war. And I aim to be the last one standing, if you can’t get with the program, move out the way. Cause I’m here to win.”

Her promise of no mercy is palpable as she shifts minutely in her seat, tapping her nails against one another whilst waiting for next question.

“What about the rest of the grid?” The interviewer prompts, treading carefully with his words, “Any words for them?”

Aisha scoffs under her breath, uncrossing her legs and flipping over the golden dainty necklace that rests within her exposed cleavage, the glinting logo of her team catches the light whilst she adjusts herself.

“Why words? They’ll know what I’m here for when I pass them. They’ll feel it, the fear, the resignation. I’m a whirlwind, all they can do is get swept up in it, this season, I am not racing against them, their teams or even their car; I’m racing against their hatred of losing to me.”

She smiles at the camera, eyes crinkling at the sides as her nose scrunches, a pure juxtaposition to the threat that peeled out of her mouth like scalding, hot water.

“Before we end. For your fans, what do you want them to know?”

“Hold on for your life, they’re about to witness history on the track. Cause I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to fuck shit up.” Aisha grins wickedly and laughing loudly at the flurry of reactions off camera from the crew that stood behind the myriad of wires.

Three different scenes are overlayed one another, the first being of Lewis Hamilton, giggling at someone off screen before focussing his large doe eyes onto the interviewer who also sat behind the large camera.

The second being 3X world champion Max Verstappen, who sits heavily onto the provided stool and sips at the can of the sugary energy drink in his hand, Max stared at the camera, a bored sheen coating his crystalline blue irises as the third, and final driver’s scene overtakes his.

This time Charles Leclerc enters the identical set, the Ferrari golden boy had narrowly escaped his fans-who’s screams of joy could be heard in the background as he waved a final time and pocketed a bright red, branded Ferrari pen whilst sighing, glancing around haphazardly.

“Lewis”

Hamilton perks up at his name, smiling serenely, prompting the interviewer to continue.

“The world of Formula one is ablaze about new entry, Aisha Patel. Do you think, as a seasoned professional, she has what it takes to compete?”

Lewis whistles lowly, leaning back against his seat and wraps his arms around himself, “Damn- starting strong huh?” He snorts once before re-adjusting his posture, “Y’know, we’ve heard of her up here. And she’s talented, but obliterating F3 and F2 does not directly auto-translate to domination on our track.”

“Is that scepticism that I hear?” The interviewer chases after the hesitation in the driver’s voice, like a dog after a juicy bone.

“Call it...” Lewis arches an eyebrow as he mulls over his words, “Healthy cautiousness. I’m waiting to see how she handles the pressure after the lights go out.”

“Max”

Max hums lazily, as though he had one too many bubbling seltzers that sat, pristine on the refreshments table, “Yeah?”

“Aisha Patel.”

Max clenches his jaw at the sound of her name.

“She’s said to rival your aggressiveness on track, what are your thoughts on her joining your world?”

Max scoffs at the seemingly preposterous statement, “What about her? She’s aggressive, so what? It’s skill that matters here in the big leagues. Give a baby a steering wheel to a supercharged car, that’ll be aggressive. I’m not holding my breath for her. “

“That sounds like someone who’s threatened?” He probes the already on edge driver.

“A threat?” Max chortles as if someone had offered him a mere penny for his thoughts, “I haven’t been threatened since kindergarten. I’ll let her have her try at the status quo, take one for the team and all.”

“Charles”

The alarmingly red adorned man tilts his head inquisitively at the interviewer, his gentle smile popping his dimples.

“Miss. Patel has been said to be relentless on track, throwing caution to the wind. Your thoughts on her violent debut?”

Charles hums as he nods his head, “It’s nice to see fresh blood on track, bonne, she’s certainly caught people’s attention. Let’s see if she’s all bark and no bite.” He mummers the French praise before shrugging at the end of his sentence.

“You’re excited to compete against her?”

“Of course- who wouldn’t be? New team, new driver. The more varied the sport, the more interesting.” He answers neutrality laced into his words, despite the excited glint in his eye.

“Thank you for your insights.” The interviewer thanks the men in their tapes, each of them reciprocating with equal politeness.

“Of course,” Lewis grins and claps his hands, turning to start chatting once again as he dismounts from the chair, already walking away.

“No problem,” Max nods his head once, stepping down from his seat whilst receiving a fresh can of Red Bull.

“Cheers mate,” The camera captures Charles leaning forward to shake the interviewer’s hand whilst patting his shoulder, before detaching to go and talk to the gaggle of Ferrari personnel who had gathered within the filming shed.

The 2025 drivers had gathered onto the Bahrain track, the relentless mid-day sun beating down on them as a few of them had the pleasure of black umbrellas being held above them, whilst other’s held small hand-fans in the large palms, basking in the cool breeze that the battery powered trinket provided.

Aisha walked out, her racing shoes tapping against the tarmac as she made her way towards the others. A few Porsche employees trailed behind her, one of them stayed closer behind her, offering her a metallic, grey hand-held fan along with a chilled bottle of water.

“Thanks,” She murmured, brushing the hair that managed to escape her ponytail, “It’s fucking boiling.” Aisha complained, tugging at her fireproofs whilst another employee came up to her, patting her face with a setting powder as an attempt to dry her skin.

“Can’t really help it, love.” The media admin, Sarah, pointed out removing her focus from one of the jittery interns to the driver, “Now- you’re going to walk out, fans are going to see you. Are you sure you don’t want to hide your face right now?”

Aisha cracked open the bottle in her hand, having pressed the condensation coated plastic against her forehead long enough. She faced away from 2-3 people surrounding her to peak past the acrylic barrier, onto the track, where the rest of the drivers stood haphazardly scattered around the starting position boxes that had been freshly painted onto the concrete polymer.

“It’s fine, I think I’ve already heard all their opinions on me.” Aisha groaned, fanning her face again as she kicked a non-existent pebble beneath her toe, “What could go wrong?”

She peaked out again, like a tense meerkat, only to be surprised with her teammate, Pierre chatting with his former partner, Esteban Ocon. His racing suit was already zipped up fully as he basked in the fan’s unintelligible shouts and squeals, the thick, grey fabric stretched over his body nicely as the different sponsor logos morphed to the wrinkles and dents of the cloth.

“He’s already out there.” She hissed, “Making me look like shit.” Aisha banged the back of her crown against the wall that provided her with the much-needed shelter, from both the sweltering rays and the assessing gazes of the crowd above.

“Nonsense lovey.” Sarah assured her, picking at the hem of her fireproofs and pressing a few of the sweaty, stray strands of hair back into position, “Pedro’s just catching up with some friends.”

“Pierre.” Aisha corrected, pulling up her identical suit from hanging lowly from her waist to her shoulders, thankfully she still had time to leave it unzipped.

“Whatever.” She flapped her hand dismissively, “Baguette man isn’t doing anything you won’t have to.”

“Okay,” Aisha breathed out, keeping her lips taught and still as her rouge lipstick was touched up by another Porsche jersey adorned worker, “My helmet?” She looked around, patting herself, as though it would appear out of thin air.

Sarah looked around her surrounding, panicked, before snorting and pointing to the ledge behind the group, “There ya go babe.” She leaned past Aisha to knock on the head gear.

“I’m a mess,” Aisha whined, picking up her helmet whilst rubbing the glossy exterior with an open palm, she runs her fingers over her last name that’s printed on the back.

“A hot mess.” Sarah corrected her, hooking their elbows together whilst ushering forward the teenage interns next to them- their hands shaking with apprehension as they gripped the phones in their hands, the gadget recording each moment.

Aisha stilled slightly as her foot contacted the tarmac, the crowd already hushing with undivided interest on her mere shadow. She could feel anxious sweat begin to build up on the nape of her neck, flushing her face and glistening against her skin.

Finally, after a few minutes of inner turmoil, she allowed Sarah to guide her out within the crowd of other team’s media escorts and her fellow drivers. The grandstands erupted with chaos, the rushing of footsteps- scrambling to take the first photos of her in her debut, the unravelling of flags, the patriotic colours burning against the pristine plexi-glass barriers and multiple little girls shouting happily at her image.

Aisha forced a smile onto her face, the unexpected praise soothed her blushing ears as she waved up at the viewing boxes.

“Well, well. Nobody’s ever screamed like that for me.” A voice creeped up behind her, causing Aisha to whip around with a cautionary hand on her chest.

A cheeky grin greeted her, “Lando” Aisha breathed out, leaning to the side of his stature to acknowledge the rabid paparazzi behind of them with a tight-lipped nod.

“Hey,” He greeted her, bouncing on the balls of his feet and tapping the top of his helmet that sat squeezed between his arm and waist, “You nervous?” Lando tipped his head boyishly, his curls falling over his forehead, hazel eyes softening as he watched her.

“Not really,” Aisha lied, “do you need to pee?” She looked at him anxiously, watching as he stopped bouncing like a full bladdered toddler, and stood still. Lando chuckled under his breath and opened his mouth to answer, until he lurched forward under the weight of a heavy arm that hung from his shoulders.

“Little Lando Norris.” Daniel chuckled, rubbing his knuckles over the younger’s head, and snorted when Lando pushed his hand away stumbling out from his hold, “Already chatting up the newbie?” Daniel looks at Aisha with a smirk, “I think his pubes finally grew in.” He faux whispered, his voice gritty as he winked.

“I’m not chatting up anyone,” Lando smacked Daniel between the eyes before walking backwards, next to Aisha, “Just catching up.” He shrugged, side-eyeing her, gauging a reaction from her steely expression. Luckily, he got one, Aisha’s eyes widened slightly, her eyelashes fluttering to match her hearts faster pace as she slowly turned her head to meet his eyes.

“Catching up?” Daniel inquired, suddenly interested, “You guys know each other from before?”

“Yeah, we karted together.” Aisha crossed her arms over one another, before accepting a cold can of thumbs up from a staff member, “Still remember how he shit his pants.” She mumbled.

“I did not!”

“What the fuck.”

Both men exclaimed at the same time, Lando blushing a furious red and Daniel cackling loudly- leading to not only the attention from the other drivers that stood in a 200m vicinity but also Aisha snorting out her drink from her nose.

“I did not shit my pants.” Lando gritted out the last part, to stop prying ears of the other men approaching to become privy to his humiliation.

“You did though?” Aisha arched a brow at him, “I passed by you on the last lap, therefore winning-“ She poked her outstretched pinkie from her can into his puffed up chest, “And that made you so mad, that you shit your pants.”

“Oh god,” Daniel wheezed, taking support on his shorter teammate who had trotted up to join the conversation. Yuki scrunched up his face, tilting away from the force of the elder before looking at Aisha sympathetically,

“You excited?” He grinned slightly, showing off the gap between his front teeth.

“Definitely. How could I not be?” Aisha looked down at Yuki, shifting her weight slightly as an attempt to lower herself, “The crippling pressure? The thousands of viewers? The weight of both of my country’s on my shoulders?” Aisha blew a nonchalant breath from between her lips whilst waving her hand in front of her face, “No biggie.”

The three men stared at her, blank expressions on their face, one of them pressed their lips together, smacking them and creating an equally awkward “popping” noise for the group to bask in.

“I meant more like, the race and stuff..” Yuki mumbled, scratching the back of his head before yelping when Daniel smacked the nape of his neck, “But yeah, what you said works too, fo sho, no doubt, no doubt.” He corrected himself hastily.

“Fo sho?” A fourth voice chimed in, this time with a French lilt to his words, “Who’s got yuki talking like that?”

Aisha looked away amusedly from the smaller driver to the voice, her eyes widened at the blaring red that adorned the man in front of her.

“My period wasn’t due until after the race.” She commented, meeting the man’s intense gaze, “Are you here to ask if I’d like to continue watching?” She tilted her head innocently.

“Ah, I see.” He scrunches his nose at her, “You’ve got our baby Yuki talking like that.”

“Hey, fuck you man.” Yuki protested, throwing his arms up with a huff.

“I know you want to,” The seemingly french-man retorted back with a shameful wink,

“You wink like you’re trying not to cry.” Lando pointed out.

Aisha clapped her hands at her revelation, “That’s what it looked like!”

Lando shrugged, as though it was obvious.

“Okay I’m sorry, I’m not here to start the next French revolution or whatever-“ She mumbled, holding out a polite hand as a civil greeting.

Though, she was not met with his acceptance immediately, instead the three men surrounding her grimaced and hissed through their teeth- Daniel shook his hand out like he had just burned himself. Aisha looked around, oblivious to the reason for their reactions and jolted her hand out to the man.

“I’m from Monaco,” He snarked, accepting her hand begrudgingly, “Not France.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She shrugged in reply.

“Charles” he gritted out, squeezing Aisha’s hand tightly- a poor attempt to veil his distaste, “Charles Leclerc, Ferrari driver.”

“Really?” Aisha squeezed harder, taking a step back to roll her eyes over his bright red suit, “Couldn’t tell.” She snorted.

“Right, well” Lando coughed, reaching forward to peel away both of their hands simultaneously, “This was fun. Meeting new people.” He took Aisha’s hand in his but dropped it quickly when she looked down at their conjoined fingers. Lando coughed, the tips of his ears blushing a furious scarlet, before he shifted to glance at his oh-so-interesting boots.

Luckily, the situation was saved by one of the administration workers clapping their hands and speaking robotically into a megaphone, “drivers, please make your way to your positions.”

The seasoned drivers around her began to exit their conversations and walk towards the bleachers style setup at the start line of the circuit. At least 12 black, metallic chairs sat in a row behind a small plaque, displaying bold white font that detailed the circuit name and the iconic formula one logo sprawled along the edges of the display board.

“Didn’t need this fucking helmet.” Aisha hissed to herself, jogging to one of the Porsche employees that stood at the edge of the camera shot, handing off the piece of equipment, before making her way back to the crowd.

She zipped up her suit and removed the piece of elastic from her hair, letting the noir waves fall down her shoulders as she scanned the already in place men in front of her, thankfully Pierre waved at her and ushered for her to take place next to him, standing behind the pair of Mercedes drivers who were snickering at some joke the other had just told.

Aisha huffed, clasping her hands behind her waist whilst jerking her head side to side due to odd strands of hair tickling her eyes and nose, before she could exasperatedly wipe her face with her hand, a pair of fingers had come and brushed against her nose. Aisha minutely followed the soft pads across her cheek before trailing her gaze up to the origin, Lando met her eyes, his own irises blown out as his hand lingered by her cheek- his thumb twitching across her skin before he coughed and re-took his position.

“Thank you,” She murmured beneath her breath, neutralising her face against the onslaught of obnoxious camera shutters and piercing sun rays.

“No problem,” Lando nodded slightly, his eyes flicking back to her face, tracing her features with his shy stare, “You did great in qualifying, yesterday.” He hastily complimented.

Aisha tried to fight against the blush that made its way up her neck, “thank you,” she snipped, pressing her lips together as a futile attempt at hiding her girlish smile.

Lando huffed out a laugh, turning his neck to grin at her, “anytime.”

Finally, the pictures had come to a stop, and the long-barrelled cameras were packed away and the grid were herded to a large, open roof truck. Another admin worker trailed behind the last driver into the pen-like vehicle, stepping up the stairs to hang back from the railing after locking the gate, “everyone’s here?’ she asked, giving a once over the flocked in men, and woman.

“Aisha, you’ll be first to talk to Lawrence,” She met eyes with Aisha, who was already waving to the rowdy fans who had collected at the banisters of the grandstands, “And then it’ll be whoever’s closest.”

The lady nodded once when the drivers thanked her, then she caught Aisha’s gaze again and she smiled reassuringly, “See you guys around.” She waved and dismounted from the railing with a jump.

The large platform began to move as the truck silently hummed to life, Aisha moved from her comfortable position at the back of the area-leaning against the matte, black railing towards Lawrence who smiled excitedly at her approaching figure. As she knitted through the small groups of 3 drivers littered in her path, she continued to wave at the fans who shouted and screamed at each subtle view they managed to glimpse of her.

“Aisha! Hi!” Lawrence greeted her, offering his hand for her to shake and swivelled around to collect a microphone.

“Hello, hello.” Aisha grinned back, accepting the long piece of tech from him, comically rotating it in her hands observing the porous black material that had been painted with a flaring red to create the F1 logo.

“So, you’re finally here! The big leagues, and yesterday’s qualifying must’ve been very exciting.  We’ve all been so blown away with Porsche’s car, and your performance. P5 ! Amazing. Walk us through what you’re feeling right now?”

“I mean, it’s a confidence booster of course, qualifying top 5- but I think that along with that it’s proving to myself and other little girls like me that it isn’t about who you are, but what you can do, regardless of gender or background.” Aisha nods once, leaning her elbow against the railing to crane her neck around and take in the track that lay ahead of the speedily moving vehicle.

“It’s great that you can showcase your talent and inspire young minds, but with that said- there’s obviously a pressure that comes with entering such a male-dominated sport.”

Aisha stilled slightly, her eyes wide and unblinking for a beat, “I mean, there’s always going to be extra expectation on you when you’re breaking barriers. The way I see it, this is an opportunity to pave the way for future generation, so really, its fuels my success and goes to show that gender or race, doesn’t correlate to your ability on track.”

“Well said, and while we’re on the topic of your determination, whilst being in the spotlight almost 24/7 and the battles on track, how do you maintain focus? It must be overwhelming.”

Aisha chuckled, turning to look at the other drivers, a few of them had tuned into her interview not-so-subtle whilst others were still deep in conversation, “I mean, when you’re battling against jumbo sized toddlers, and then being put under the loving spotlight of the media, I agree, it can be pretty overwhelming sometimes. But then I remind myself, why am I here? What am I here to do? And at the end of the day, it’s just me, the car, and the track, so I really don’t mind it too much.”

She shrugged at the end of her sentence, flipping her hair over her shoulder before unzipping the thick race suit. Revealing her tight, fireproofs beneath, the Indian flag sat proudly on her shoulder whilst her team logo lay sprawled across her chest along with the sponsor logos littered across the rest of her front.

“You make it seem so easy Aisha,” Lawrence laughed, oblivious to the tension that had gathered in the young woman’s shoulders and the tightness of her eyes that had increased tenfold throughout their conversation, “Last question before I let you go, to all of  your young fans gathered here today-“ he pointed up to the bleachers that came into view on the straight that the truck was approaching, where multiple younger children stood, jumping in their spots as their Porsche hats bobbled on their heads, “-what would you tell them? Especially those who are most likely facing challenges in their racing journey?”

Aisha smiled serenely, imagining herself in the seats that sat so far away from her, what her younger self would long to hear to make her racing career just a little bit easier, “To all the younger dreamers, never let anyone else tell you your limits. They may say to stop, but you need to believe that you can keep going. Chase your passions relentlessly because if you do, then the only barriers will be the ones we allow ourselves to see. Keep fighting, because one day, you’ll see that you’re right where you need to be.”

“Wow” He sighed, hand on his heart, “That inspired me.” Lawrence laughed heartily, “Finally, maybe just a few words in your native language, now from what I know you spent at least 3 years living in India? For your education?” He looked at her questioningly, waiting for her response.

Aisha nodded happily, “Yes, I did! so you want a message in Hindi? There are so many languages in my country, but sadly I’m only fluent in Hindi, despite being Gujarati myself.”

“That would be great, please do.”

“Sabse pehle, main apne sabhi fans ko bahut saara pyaar dena chahti hoon. Aap log mere liye inspiration ho, aur main hamesha aapke saath hoon. Aap sabka support mere liye bahut important hai, aur thank you kehna chahti hoon.”

[First of all, I want to give a lot of love to all my fans. You are an inspiration for me, and I am always with you. All your support is very important for me, and I would like to say thank you.]

“Amazing, thank you so much Aisha,” Lawrence gently took the microphone away from her and offered a grateful smile before looking towards Fernando who had made his way towards the pair.

“No problem,” Aisha stepped away, patting the eldest driver’s back once before turning away and making her way towards Lando, who had already been looking towards her, waiting for her to approach him, along with Oscar and Logan who were engrossed in conversation.

The scene fades away from the three seasoned drivers and in the blackness another title appears, “RACE DAY” and following this the Porsche garage is finally revealed for the first time, much like the other teams the hard acrylic surfaces were decorated with the team colours and many engineers, technicians and workers were rushing around whilst other’s begaan to detach the hydraulic tubes from the cars in preparation for the first race of the season.

Before the first car revved up with anticipation, the halo was shown displaying the driver number and surname, “GASLY 10” and with that, the tubes were removed and the driver’s engineer pulled away, removing the iPad from Pierre’s gloved hands, allowing him to speed off towards his starting position.

The camera pans over to the second car that is yet to exit the garage, the driver within seemed to be hurriedly re-reading the car statistics, consuming that data over and over again, the scene rotates from the back of the car towards the front, where from beyond the middle column of the halo we get a glimpse of the large helmet following her heads sporadic movements, the Indian and British flag printed onto the front side of her head gear, peeped in and out of view as she handed away the tablet and she pulled on her gloves that lay waiting on the chassis in front of her.

With a confident thumbs up, she followed one of the Porsche employee’s guiding movements towards the other racers who sat in their cars, waiting for the start. Maintaining an even pace, she passed by the other cars, the exposed carbon fibre of Esteban’s Alpine in P10 and bright orange of Oscar’s McLaren in P7. She found her box waiting for her car as she pulled in and slowly removed her foot from the acceleration as she joined the grid in waiting for the formation lap.

The music faded away, to allow Aisha’s monologue to play over the still of the onboard camera, “This is it, I thought to myself, all the years of hard work and sacrifices have led up to this moment. This isn’t like F3 or F2-“ the live replay of the sleek interior of her F1 car is replaced by exhilarating moments of on track battles from her previous racing leagues, “- this is F1, where dreams are trampled on and shattered if you can’t keep up.” Her voice trembles slightly as we hear her take a deep breath in and the cars are overtaken with a new scene.

We see Aisha, in the same deep red sultry pantsuit, her side profile contrasted in the shadows as her chest rises and falls, “I remember the moment exactly, I told myself ‘Aisha, soak it in, the cheers and the feeling of other’s dreams, their expectations, cause it can make or break you.” She laughs incredulously at herself, “dramatic I know.”

“But it was electrifying, the whole thing, the thrum of the engines, the anticipation. I have never felt anything like it. But it’s everything I’ve trained for and everything I’ve wanted since I was little and racing go-karts.” Snippets of the raging, overwhelming sound of spluttering go-karts overtake the screen as one after another, we see young Aisha, drowning in an oversized sponsored uniform cut through the chequered ribbon.

“To the other drivers on the grid, it’s just the first race of the season, but for me, it’s my debut, it’s the first and only chance to prove that I’m meant to be here.” Aisha claps her hands, and the bursting flashes of her karting days cease, and we’re brought back to her, sitting in the tall stool, legs crossed over elegantly as she waves her heel back and forth, “The countdown began, and it’s lights out and away we go.”

The red lights above the Bahrain track fade away one by one, Crofty’s voice is matched with hers, and just as the sound of the engines crescendo, the scene ends.

“Right Lando- “

The young British man makes his way into the stool, wobbling slightly as he flails his hands before rocking back to stability. He lets out a relieved breath and crosses his arms over his chest, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with the golden, volt bracelet on his wrist the Luis Vuitton logo glinting in the light from his absent-minded movements.

“Hi, yes, I’m here.” Lando looked up at the interviewer, his eyes bouncing between the 3-4 different camera’s capturing him from odd angles, “Which-“he pointed at one of them, “-which one am I looking at?”

The interviewer laughed before leaning forward and tapping the lens of the middle-most camera, “This one.”

Lando breathed out, “great” before adjusting the pillowing fabric of his hoodie and stared straight into the glass barrel in front of him, “I’m Lando Norris, and I race for McLaren Formula one team.”

“We ehm we didn’t need that. It- it’s different from Drive to Survive,”

Lando cringed and rubbed the back of his head, causing the bracelet to ride up beneath the sleeve of his hoodie, “My bad- “

“Don’t worry about it, Now-“The sound of cue cards being shuffled could be heard, “Onto the first question, we’ve heard rumours about you and Aisha, especially during your karting days, care to elaborate?”

Lando sucks air through his teeth as he smirks, “Me and Aisha…” He looks down to his hands, fingers finding purchase on the angled charm of his bracelet, “We go way back, I mean, it was either me or her who were winning the races, she was,” He sighs heavily, his eyes starry as he looks back up to the camera, “She was, no, she is everything.”

“Can’t help but notice the bracelet that you have on, anything significant?”

“It’s symbolic, I guess?but nothing too big.” He shrugs it off, hiding away the jewellery from prying eyes.

The interviewer presses their lips together, humming whilst shuffling the cards once again, “Right, of course, but some fans have already started to notice that you and she are…close.”

“Close? We’ve always been close, it’s like electric with her, it’s hard not to be attached to her talent.” Lando smirks playfully, winking at the camera, “Karting with her was so intense, we pushed each other to the limit, and I will always hold her and those memories close to my heart.”

“Seems like obsession,” They laugh.

“Oh, it most definitely is, I mean, have you seen her?” Lando flourishes dramatically with his hands, as though the woman was sitting right next to him.

We are brought back to the first driver’s briefing of the season, mere days before the Bahrain Grand Prix, Aisha had just sat down next to Pierre and began to chat amicably with her new teammate, bouts of laughter erupting from the pair momentarily.

The camera pans from the bonding partners to Lando, still hiding his head between his palms in embarrassment, though from between his ringed fingers we see his emerald irises peeking through the gaps, staring thoughtfully at the enrapturing driver who was currently fiddling with the van clef, indigo bracelets that shimmered around her wrist.

Oscar, who was also curiously watching the woman jogged Lando, snapping the man out of his trance, “Mate- you’re drooling,” He poked his teammate’s cheek.

Lando slapped away the finger that prodded his face, “I am not.”

“Whatever you say,” Oscar hummed, turning his attention back to the administrator who was flipping through a few data filled papers, bringing their mouth closer to the bendable microphone. Oscar leaned into Lando, bumping their shoulders together, “Just be careful.”

Aisha breathed out a sigh, capping the black, matte Bulgari pen, slipping it into the awkwardly small purse that hung from her shoulder. She slammed the driver’s door of her car, having just finished a load of signing and smiling with fans, her main objective was to get through the security scanners peacefully.

“Hey stranger,” A voice came up behind her, tapping her arm.

“Lando,” Aisha tried to contain the quiver in her voice, “I thought you already got in.” She adjusted the neckline of her top, the tight sleeves hugged her shoulders and left her skin exposed to the warm sun.

“I did, I just needed something from my car and then I saw you,” He grinned at her, tapping his key card against the scanner, walking seamlessly through the rotating barrier, “You look like you’re about to walk a runway.”

Aisha laughed, tucking a straightened lock of hair behind her ear, “Thanks, you look…” Aisha assessed his outfit, a pair of light blue baggy, Levi’s and one of his own merch hoodies, “normal.” She cringed at her unnecessary honesty.

Yet, Lando just laughed and nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah- compared to you.”

Aisha continued to walk through the paddock, the British driver at her side whilst she waved to those personnel that passed by. She looked down at her own clothes, a neat, navy, off-the shoulder top that hugged her chest in all the right places was tucked into a grey mini-skirt, compliments of one of the many brand ambassadors of her team, the item was paired with a thin brown, gold buckled belt along with knee-high go-go boots.

“You could say that” She conceded, adjusting the golden Porsche chain that clung to her neck, “I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” Lando pocketed his hands.

“I you wanted to get dinner. For old times’ sake?” Aisha leaned forward on one foot, tilting her head hopefully before coming to a stop and waiting for his response.

Lando beamed widely, his eyes sparkling, “Definitely, I would be an absolute idiot to turn you down.”

Aisha blushed and looked down at the bracelets on her wrist, multiple layered golden chains which reflected light against her face in the most euphoric way, “Great, I’ll ju-“

“AISHA, oh my god it’s really her, AISHA!”

A shrill, young voice erupted from behind the pair, and a group of 3-4 young girls came running up to the pair. Aisha laughed to herself, plucking out the pen once more.

“Hello,” Aisha greeted the pre-teens who surrounded her, two of them dressed in a signature papaya orange whilst the other two sported metallic, silver Porsche merch, “You guys look so good!”

She accepted the hats and odd poster that the girls shyly handed her, “We’re so excited to see you race! You’re the only one who looks like us.” One of them spoke, her copper toned, youthful cheeks bobbed up with her smile as her long, black ponytail weaved with her excited movements.

“That’s so sweet, I think I might just win the race for you.” Aisha opened her arm for the girl to step into as they took a photo.

“Ehm, Lando, could we get an autograph as well,” Another one asked, already unfurling a second poster along with presenting the enraptured male with a sharpie.

“Absolutely! How could I resist?” Lando accepted the pen and began to sign the poster along with some newly presented items that the other two girls had produced.

“Thank you, guys, so much!” Aisha waved off the girls and turned back to Lando, already handing over her phone for him to enter in his number.

The young fans were squealing on their way back to their parents, who were just as excited for their young daughter’s interaction, “Did you guys see the bracelet?”

“What bracelet?” Another one asked, carefully rolling up her poster and handing it to her father, who tucked it under his arm and offered his hand for her to take.

“Lando’s, the one he wore for the whole of last season…” She adjusted her cap, looking confusedly at her three friends.

“Oh…I didn’t.”

“Neither did I.”

The screen faded away from Lando, sitting with his teammate whilst gawking at Aisha and we’re brought back to the present, the on-board camera of the Porsche is aimed at the lights that have just gone dark and all at once, a symphony of rubber against concrete fills the scene.

Aisha navigated turn one with ease, emerging from the throng of cars still in P5, her grip tightened on the steering wheel as she focussed every ounce within her body on the track ahead. The bright spotlights above her cast a blinding hue over the grandstands, illuminating the eager fans from around the world, their flags waved in their air as they watched with anticipation when she approached Lewis from behind, pressuring the world champion ahead as they weaved into the next turn.

Aisha aimed for the apex, seeing the slightest gap for her to slip past, as she pointed the head of her car towards the opening, she held her breath and pressed on the throttle. Aisha lurched backwards as she could feel the crackles of her under-board hit the track with each increase in speed she made, yet she managed to dodge the Mercedes car and fly down the straight, maintaining her tyres as best as she could.

The radio thrummed to life in her ear as her race engineer, James, began to speak, “Great work with Lewis, already around 1.15 behind you. Take care of your tyres for now and defend.”

Aisha breathed heavily as she continued to meet the corners and walls with barely an inch to save herself as a highly effective attempt to prevent more overtakes, “Got it.”

She continued her pace throughout the laps, the continuous build up over 20 rounds had inched her closer and closer to Carlos who was struggling in P3, his braking getting worse and worse with each sharp turn.

“James- how much closer do I need to overtake?” Aisha gritted out, flitting her eyes to the large, white metallic DRS sign that entered her limited field of vision.

“Only a bit more Aisha, it’s time to push.”

Aisha stepped harshly onto the gas, her engine thrumming all around her as she charged closer to the bright red Ferrari ahead. She could see the rubber of the tyres in front burn and smoke with every swerve. The roar of her engine filled her ears, drowning out the noise of her own heartbeat as she braced herself for the challenge, “Here we go,” she murmured, voice firm and steely with determination.

She surged her car forward, pushing her machine to the limit as she matched Carlos’ pace with precision and determination, the desert heat bore down in mirage-like waves as the two drivers danced on the razor’s edge of competition. One by one measly lap, the distance shortened until they were wheel to wheel, and all Aisha could do was grit her teeth until she could taste the tangy calcium as she continued the precipice of a wipe-out, the promise of a podium too good to lose.

Aisha’s heart pounded with exhilaration as they hurtled down the straight once again, soon enough the pair were met with the sharpest corner yet, Aisha pushed further and Carlos relented, edging away meekly to allow her to slip by. The crowd’s cheers washed over her, a wave of euphoria crashing over her senses as her heart swelled with triumph.

“WOO! P3!”

“Amazing work Aisha, halfway there. Get some distance between you two.”

“I can take on Checo,” Aisha promised, her aggressive spirit burning deeply within her core as her eyes narrowed into the back of one of the red bulls.

“Go for it, but be careful, your tyres aren’t that good.” James warned her, his voice crisp with caution.

“I got this.”

Aisha revved up once her power had flashed a promising green on the screen in front of her, “It’s time to pounce.” She promised herself whilst flicking the DRS button with her thumb, letting the flap behind her quiver open, the force launched her forward like never before as the lap count leached into the 40’s, Checo hadn’t yet pitted, neither had she, and suddenly, it was a battle of the wills.

She tried all that she could, nudging her nose into the smallest of gaps and backing out when he had angled himself predatorially, grazing her front wing enough for her heart to jump into her throat, “What the fuck is he doing? Fucking cocksucker, he wants to kill me or what?” Aisha had to remind herself to lower her voice.

“It’s within regulation, keep pushing you’re approaching DRS again.” James assured her.

The car trembled beneath her, like a jaguar waiting to pounce again after one failure, she pressed again. This time she nipped Checo’s wheel, causing for him to quickly move out of the way, narrowly missing a spin-off and allowing Aisha to speed into P2.

“FUCK YES! HOLY SHI-“

Aisha’s celebration was cut short when a dangerous thrum approached her rapidly, she attempted with all her might to duck and weave into and out of his path, but Checo was relentless, continuously rubbing against her wheels and forcing her to utilise her power.

“Fuck, fuck what the actual shit?” Aisha screeched as she continued to sloppily defend, her anger bubbling up like hot water.

The red bull growled and pounced in front of her, clipping enough of her front wheel to send her spinning. Aisha shouted with malice, throwing up her hands as her wheels began to rotate rapidly, “BASTARD!”

Her vision blurred as the world around her continued to haphazardly shift, the fans above stilled with trepidation as they watched her strangle her wheel with both hands and wrangle the car back into position.

“Okay, so that’s P5- P5, Piastri, Sainz, Perez and Verstappen in front of you,”

“Copy.” Aisha grumbled darkly, manoeuvring the vehicle so that she could continue to viciously speed down the final lap, murderously defending her position as her stomach finally settled and head stopped pounding with adrenaline.

The race ended with Crofty heartily congratulating her over the commentary,

“And Verstappen has won the Bahrain grand prix! with Checo in P2 and Sainz in the Ferrari in P3. Now the fans have spoken, and new-comer Aisha Patel has been voted driver of the day, rightfully so, securing a solid P5 finish after a challenging battle on the track. it's fantastic to see her scoring valuable points in her debut race. And let's not forget the incredible debut of the Porsche F1 Team! It's clear that they're a force to be reckoned with in the championship.”

A view of Max passing through the finish line is shown, sparks flew behind his car as he speeds through and turned into the parc ferme. Aisha is also shown, her eyes steely from within her helmet and as she stops her car she clambers out of the cockpit and rips of her headgear, a scowl evident on her usually cool face.

She pushes open the gate to the media pen, narrowly avoiding Max, who spared her a dark glance from over his shoulder before turning back to the interviewer.

“Yeah, people make stupid decisions sometimes,” She heard him answer the unintelligible question. Aisha could already feel the anger burn her throat as she whipped her head around and met Max’s eyes, he stared back, an inferno raging within his blue iris’. She opened her mouth to speak but was stopped by her Media manager, pulling her away gently, Aisha followed tearing her eyes away from the Dutchman. Yet, she could still feel his heated gaze on her.

Aisha scoffed passing by Carlos and Checo, who were conversing in fast Spanish, and headed towards the common media area, where eager and ravenous reporters began to clamber on top of one another as they caught sight of her sweaty face and stringy hair.

“Aisha! Aisha!”  They called, loud voices breaking through the microphone and blowing through the audio.

Aisha huffed and went towards the tell-tale white microphone, the sky sports logo sprawled all over the foam cover,

“Hi Aisha, congratulations on the P5 today,” Mark started, holding the microphone out for the visibly annoyed driver.

“Thank you,” She snipped, but blinked a few times before forcing herself to continue, “Y’know could’ve been a P2 finish for Porsche today, but I’m happy with both Pierre and I’s finish, at least we scored some valuable points.” Aisha robotically recounted her PR training.

“Definitely a tough break for you out there,” He nodded solemnly, “Care to walk us through what happened with Checo on lap 43?”

Aisha sucked in a breath, looking behind her where her PR person stood, arms crossed over her Porsche shirt as she shrugged, “Yeah, of course, it’s disappointing end to my race, P2 would probably be a dream, but Checo made a-“ Aisha bit her tongue momentarily, looking into the few dozen camera’s pointed at her, until she noticed Checo’s reflection walking behind her, heading to the cool-down room, “-a dickhead move absolutely dangerous, there was contact because he couldn’t use his eyes, and that caused me to spin out. It’s racing, I know, but you don’t see race winners or legends making moves like that.” Aisha hissed.

Mark stared at her, mouth agape before he recollected himself and forced a flabbergasted laugh, “Well, that’s one way to put it.” The other surrounding reporters were close to drooling at the mouth, their own mics pushed further through the gaps as they imagined the debaucherous headlines they could create from her outburst.

“How were you feeling during that moment?”

“Truthfully?” She tilted her head, “Pissed, but you probably didn’t you marky-moo, my radio probably told you that. But after I managed to regain my original position, I was more determined to just finish the race with a solid end.”

He laughed at that but stilled when Checo emerged once again from the cool-off room, “Checo!” Mark called, oblivious to the thunderous haze that overtook Aisha. She checked behind her shoulder, and her upper lip curled with malice,

“I’ll let Checo say his bit- “She murmured, “Excuse me.” And left the pen, heading towards the Porsche garage whilst avoiding eye-contact with Lucy, her fuming PR manager.

“Hey! Checo!” Aisha called out, throwing down her headphones, leaving her race engineer in concerned confusion as she approached the red bull driver, amid his team, oblivious to the storm about to hit him.

“Oh, hey Aisha-“

“Do not, hey, me.” She snarled, “What the fuck was that on track? Were you trying to kill me back there? You could’ve overtaken me in so many other ways.” Aisha approached him, prompting Checo to take a simultaneous step back, hands raised.

“It’s racing Aisha, I had to make a split-second decision.”

“We all make decisions, Perez,” She snarled, hands balling up into fists, “You don’t see Charles or Carlos or anyone with half a brain doing what you did? You messed up my race!” Aisha’s voice begins to raise, drawing attention of the red bull personnel, since the pair had manged to slowly move up to the entrance of the garage, and prompting a few camera men, who were following around Lando and Oscar to pan over to her.

Aisha groans, smacking her palm against her head a few times as a display of aggression before turning back to a very sweaty, nervous driver, “Never mind my race- you had fucking so many other options, why? Why did you decide to clip my wheel? Is it because being overtaken by a woman was so embarrassing, for red bull’s number two, you couldn’t handle it?” Aisha mocks him, before starting to approach his frozen form, a violent fire burning in her eyes and spreading to her limbs, igniting them with her fury.

Just as there was merely a centimetre between the two, a pair of strong arms hooked themselves around her elbows, holding her hand away from Checo, who had started shouting about his “personal safety”.

“Are you fucking stupid?” A gruff voice whispers into her ear.

Aisha kicks out, a futile attempt to free herself, “Let me go,” She whips her head around, her hair flying,

“Can you stop? I will literally knock you out.” The voice continues, grunting when her foot narrowly misses his groin.

“Fine-“ She huffs, going limp as she shoots daggers into Checo’s retreating back being escorted by a flurry of blue clad workers, “Fine, let me go,” She mumbles.

The man drops her onto the floor instantly, allowing her to stumble over her feet. Aisha finds her footing once more and spins around to meet his eyes, “Max?”

Max stares down at her, his eyes squinted with annoyance, “Who else? You’re in front of the red bull garage.” He rolls his eyes and steps a large stride away from her.

Aisha blinks once. Twice. Before scoffing and crossing her arms, “Yeah. Thanks.” She snarks before walking away from him, leaving the dutchman standing, fuming in his spot. She manages to skip over the McLaren crowd but had attracted almost half a dozen cameras on her, the large intimidating lens’ were pushed into her face haphazardly, narrowly missing her face a few times.

Aisha had to hold herself back from stealing the cameras from their holders and smashing them onto the ground. She could feel a self-depreciating throb begin to build in her head, the memory of all the idyllic children watching her, and those who had felt represented by her made tears prick at her eyes. In that moment, with too many lens’ focussing on her quivering lip, she hoped that they wouldn’t catch the salty sadness that threatened to stream down her face

The post-race interview scene fades away, and a familiar red bull jersey is announced into the scene, the dark blue merging pleasantly with the dark grey background. We’re introduced to Checo’s frame, a placid smile on his face.

“Hi checo,” The interviewer greets the driver, who nods in acknowledgement, “Well, Bahrain was an intense time for you, especially the on track accident with Aisha, would you care to talk us through the whole thing?”

Checo clears his throat briefly, “Yeah, uhm, it was a tight battle with her, and she was holding her ground y’know, but I saw an opportunity to make a move and I took it.” He shrugged once, reverting his gaze away from the camera, “And, as an unfortunate by product, she ended up spinning out, but it’s racing, these things happen.”

“I think everyone knows that she seemed quite upset about the incident, did you have a chance to speak with her afterwards?”

“uhm, people say things when they’re angry, and Aisha was frustrated but I’m here to win races, that’s what I’ve been hired to do. Once again, it was a choice that I had to make, and it’s hard to consider everyone’s emotions while I do it.”

“Max, we recently interviewed Checo, and he had some…words to say about the situation in Bahrain, specifically with Aisha after the race. Now, we saw that you had intervened just in time, what was going on during that moment?”

Max shifted in his chair, slipping down slightly, and crossing his arms over his chest, “Yeah, I could see that the situation was escalating, with Aisha getting increasingly angry, it would’ve ended pretty badly.”

“You sound so sure about that.”

“Trust me, I know anger when I see it, and I know that races can get heated especially when avoidable occurrences aren’t avoided, but I also think that emotional regulation is crucial to compete.” He distractedly runs a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Does this change your initial views on Aisha entering the sport? Since you were pretty, pessimistic.” The interviewer cringes just as the words escape their mouth.

“I wouldn’t say I was pessimistic,” He quickly rejects, “But I think she had something to prove, just like any of us, she isn’t exempt from it. And she, raced like any of us would’ve in the moment, so do I suddenly think of her as a saint? No, but do I think that she’s building up to something? Maybe.”

“Aisha!” A voice calls from behind her, Aisha smiles at the fans who had offered her a notebook to sign, she watched them walk away before responding,

“Yeah?” She tucks away her pen into the silver, Porsche gym bag that hung from her shoulder.

Lando jogs up to her, tapping his card against the scanner before pushing through the gate and reaching her side, “Great race, you handled it...well…” He trailed off, unsure of how to spin off his compliment.

Aisha laughs at that, throwing her head back, ”It’s okay Lando, you don’t have to say anything” She tugs at the sleaves of her tight black jacket, the hugo boss label stretched over her chest as she pulled at the fabric, “I- I can get pretty mad,” Aisha shrugs, kicking an imaginary pebble with her shoe, rustling her oversized tracksuit bottoms, the three parallel lines on both her legs fluttered with the airy clothing.

“Yeah, that probably didn’t go down to well on camera,” He itches the back of his head, “I actually came to ask if you’re staying at the same hotel as the rest of us, Oscar took my car and I’m stranded.”

“Lando…” She sighs, adjusting the strap of her bag, “If you wanted to ride in my Porsche, you could’ve just said so.” Aisha gestured to her silvery 918 Spyder, the high-end sports car shimmered beneath the spotlights of the private car park.

Lando hissed through his teeth and grinned, “You caught me.” He held his hands up, “It’s the only way I can be photographed in the car without causing an uproar.”

Aisha tilted her head at him, “Oh, so nothing else is convincing you?”

“Hmmm, that, and maybe the very beautiful and scary woman who drives it?” Lando offered, holding out his hand for her to take.

She looked down at his open palm before searching the area around them, the rest of the grid had departed long before, leaving just her car and another in the parking. Aisha squinted her eyes at the remaining automobile, a Honda NSX, the only owner being none other than a certain grumpy blonde, who was more focussed on his back seat than on the couple who still stood in the middle of the concrete.

Accepting his hand, she revelled in the feeling of her fingers intertwined with his, soft skin against coarse knuckles, a warm aura enveloped her being as she guided them towards her car, pulling out the flat fob to click open the expensive machine.

Yet, as she watched Lando retreat into the passenger’s seat with an amazed, “oh damn.” and went to unlock the trunk to slip her duffel bag into, she felt an icy gaze glued to her back.

Aisha turned once behind her to where Max was sitting in his driver’s seat, eyes glued at first on Lando, an unrecognisable expression painted on his face before he slowly slid it up to her face, and his once oddly neutral gaze turned into an annoyed squint.

With that, the dutchman tore his eyes away from a now, slightly agitated Aisha, towards the open road and pulled out of the car park, speeding away to what she assumed would be the hotel.

“Hey,” Lando leaned over the dash, reaching for her hand that rested on the headrest of her seat, the other braced on her car door as she watched the retreating Honda, “You okay?”

Aisha jumped out of her disturbed haze, and back to where Lando was now rubbing his fingers over hers that had tensed enough to turn her milky brown skin into a pale white, “Yeah- I’m fine, just checking for reporters.”

“I’m that embarrassing?” He teased, watching her intently as she fastened her seatbelt and smiled at the sound of the purring super engine.

Aisha snorts, “No- not at all, just making sure that McLaren’s golden boy isn’t photographed inside a Porsche- with the grid’s certified crazy woman.” She pressed on the gas.

“Yeah, but…what if I want that?”

“What?” Aisha’s eyebrows knitted together; eyes still glued to the unfamiliar roads ahead as the GPS stopped squawking at her for a brief moment.

“I don’t care if you’re the crazy woman…You’re just, you. I don’t care about the rest.” Lando smiled lazily, his eyes studying her quickly flustered face.

“You’re a horrible flirt Norris.” She grumbled.

[taintedsoul-if]

This whole drabble stressed my pea-sized brain out. At one point, I wanted to throw my device into the wall (though I would never harm my precious babies). Enjoy. Word count: 2150.

Cadmus × MC

You push open the door, and the sweet scent of incense envelops you. The pleasure house is dimly lit, with soft music and drunken laughter filling the air. A wave of nostalgia washes over you, reminiscent of The Ole Rose, your former haunt. You can't help but wonder if Ada is doing well. Though you hope your mother's schemes go unpunished, you know Ada will uncover the truth. Her tenacity is unwavering, and she'll stop at nothing to expose the secrets that led to your demise. You're torn between your love for your mother and your desire for justice. The madam, resplendent in red robes, approaches with a captivating sway of her hips. "Well, well, well, a new face! It's lovely to have you here, stranger."

The madam's warm smile and sultry tone break the spell of nostalgia, and you focus on the present. You take in the opulent decorations and the patrons' revelry, feeling a sense of disconnection from this life. "Just passing here to enjoy a drink or two. No company necessary." You emphasize the last part, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention. The madam's eyes sparkle with understanding, and she nods. "Very well, stranger. You're welcome to stay. Take a seat wherever you like. I'll send someone over with a drink of your choice." Her gaze lingers on yours for a moment before she turns to attend to another patron, leaving you to your thoughts. Your eyes scan the room, searching for a quiet corner to escape into, when they land on a familiar figure - Cadmus, sitting in the shadows.

The memories of Cadmus's avoidance at school flood your mind, making you hesitant to approach him now. You recall how he'd vanish into thin air, leaving you feeling frustrated and unwanted. With a deep breath, you decide to respect his boundaries and not force an interaction. Instead, you redirect your attention to finding a peaceful spot to collect your thoughts. Your eyes scan the room, searching for a secluded corner where you can retreat into your own world.

As you search for a quiet corner, your eyes land on a cozy nook partially hidden by a velvet curtain. The soft glow of a lantern illuminates the area, casting a warm and inviting light. You make your way towards it.

Just as you settle in, the Madame of the pleasure house approaches, accompanied by two individuals with striking features and slender physiques. "These two have just arrived," she says with a knowing smile. "Although you declined company, they can assist with pouring your drink and attending to any other needs you may have."

You smile politely, feeling a bit uneasy at the Madame's suggestion. "Thank you, but I'm quite alright on my own," you reply, trying to decline their services.

However, the two individuals approach you with charming smiles, their eyes sparkling with interest. The woman, with raven-black hair and porcelain skin, introduces herself as Luna, while the man, with chiseled features and piercing blue eyes, introduces himself as Kael.

Luna takes the liberty of pouring you a glass of wine, her fingers brushing against yours as she hands it to you. Kael, meanwhile, takes a seat next to you, his proximity making you feel slightly uncomfortable.

The Madame, seemingly satisfied with the arrangement, nods and excuses herself, leaving you with the unlikely trio.

As you raise the glass to your lips, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your face. The wine's flavors explode on your palate, a masterful balance of sweet and bitter notes. But before you can savor the taste, a chilly voice cuts through the air. "Indulging in drugged wine to get yourself in the mood, I see." Your head jerks up, and your eyes meet Cadmus's piercing vermilion gaze. He looms over you, his presence both captivating and intimidating.

You gaze up at Cadmus, his piercing vermilion eyes seeming to bore into your soul, their inscrutable expression unreadable. "Cadmus," you say, trying to sound nonchalant despite the sudden tension. Ignoring his words, you brush them off, still remembering the stinging feeling of his avoidance. "So now you want to talk to me?" You take another sip, the sweetness and bitterness dancing on your tongue.

"You're both dismissed," Cadmus said curtly. The servers scurried away like they'd been doused with cold water, abandoning their posts without a second glance. Your eyes blazed with anger, and your glass hit the table with a sharp crack. You rose from your seat, your finger pointing at Cadmus like a dagger. "Who do you think you are, dismissing my servers like they're your personal minions?" Your voice was low and even, "You've been avoiding me like the plague in public - at school of all places! Making me look like a damn stalker for trying to talk to you, but now you're ready to get cozy in private?"

"When you approach me, do you feel anything?" Cadmus asked, disregarding your words. His hand clasped around your index finger.

"What does your approaching me have to do with anything? I am talking about you avoiding me!" You tried jerking your finger out of his hold, which didn't budge.

"Mi sol, I am getting very impatient and I don't know how long I am able to hold out for."

Gnashing your teeth together, you smacked his hand. "Stop calling me that! My impatience is also wearing thin! Your feelings aren't the only..." You were unable to finish your sentence, as Cadmus's lips covered your own, silencing you completely.

Cadmus's lips were warm and demanding, his kiss deepening as he pulled you closer. Your mind raced, torn between the anger and frustration that had been building and the sudden rush of emotions his kiss evoked. You felt like you were drowning in the sensation, your resistance melting away with each passing moment.

As suddenly as it had begun, the kiss ended. Cadmus pulled back, his eyes burning with desire. "I've missed you," he whispered, his voice low and husky.

You stood there, breathless and bewildered, trying to process what had just happened. Your heart raced, your lips still tingling from the kiss. "You've got some nerve," you managed to stammer, trying to regain your composure.

Your body felt hot, as if it was suddenly doused in a tub of hot water. Your vision blurs, and you stumble, feeling your weight pressed against Cadmus.

"Even the weakest drug has such a lethal effect on you." Nestling your head against Cadmus's shoulder, your body trembled. Thinking about it now, he did say something about the wine being drugged, but because of the hurt, you chose to ignore his words.

"Riaz... Do what needs to be done. We're leaving."

Your body felt light. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around Cadmus's neck and closed your eyes. When have you ever let your guard down around someone since transmigrating here? Never. This is the first. Cadmus felt like a home away from home. He made you feel like this is where you've always belonged. Right here in his arms. His hand cradled your head protectively.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

When you opened your eyes, you were in a tub filled to the brim with water, small purple petals floated atop the water in tranquility. Craning your head, you tried to get a good look at your surroundings. White walls, marble tile countertops attached to a glass-embedded sink with lights. There was a stone-tiled shower with a rain showerhead.

Realizing your new location was a bathroom, you quickly sat up in the tub to check if you were fully clothed, which you were, and your memory was a bit blurry. The last thing you remembered was being 'forcefully' kissed by Cadmus. At the thought of him, the bathroom door opened, and he entered, his hair dripping with water on his robe, which was loosely tied in the middle. He silently stalked across the room towards where you were, reaching out a hand, and he touched your forehead. "Mhmm, better."

"Where are we?"

Cadmus gazed at you. "Home," he responded. The water sloshed over the edge of the tub, wetting the bottom of his bathrobe. "The drug's effect should wear off in the next hour."

"I—"

"Clean yourself up and get some rest. I'll have Riaz drop you off at home in a few hours." Cadmus turned to leave, but you sprang up from your seated position to grab onto his hand. With your sudden movement, the robe slipped off his shoulder, exposing the smooth expanse of his pale, flawless skin.

"You'll go back to avoiding me after this, won't you? If I did something wrong for you to dislike me, you can say so."

Cadmus's eyes narrowed, his voice low. "What's going on in your head? Do you think I'd bring you here if I had even a hint of dislike for you?"

You stood firm, meeting his gaze. "You've been evasive with your answers," you pointed out, your tone direct.

Cadmus's expression turned edgy. "If you had answered my question earlier, maybe I wouldn't be wondering if you're hiding something," he shot back, his words laced with a hint of frustration.

His hand enveloped yours, his lips slightly parted as he gazed at you. You looked down at his hand, feeling his fingers trace gentle circles on your skin. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over you, as if he had done this many times before. But that was impossible - you'd only just met him. The familiarity must be a reminder of the person he had mentioned, the one he had lost. A pang of jealousy flared in your chest, but you didn't have time to dwell on it.

"You're the bane of all my suffering and pain, mi sol. Yet, I still crave you with every fiber of my being," Cadmus mutters, his eyes icy cold. "I vowed that our last lifetime together would be the final time I'd succumb to such all-consuming desire and need for you. But it seems that, despite everything, my body, mind, and entire existence remain inextricably bound to yours. You're nothing short of cruel, mi sol."

With those words, his hand released yours, and he stepped back, creating a distance between your bodies. "Rest well, mi sol."

"Cad—" But he didn't allow you to finish, swiftly turning and departing from the room, the door closing softly behind him, leaving you with a sense of longing and unanswered questions.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

You stepped out of your room, feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the night. Cadmus's mansion was a maze of long, winding hallways, the shadows cast by the flickering lights making it seem like the walls were moving. But you weren't intimidated.

You wanted to clear the air between you and Cadmus. Your body craved his presence just as fiercely as his seemed to crave yours. If that weren't the case, you wouldn't be trying so hard to catch his eye. The weight of guilt was crushing you, making you wonder how you'd caused someone as strong as Cadmus so much pain.

Seeking him out might seem irrational, but you needed answers. At the end of the hall, a door stood slightly ajar, warm light spilling out like an invitation. You made your way towards it, your mind made up.

Inside the room, Cadmus sat amidst towering shelves, engrossed in a book. Though he didn't acknowledge your presence, his body tensed as you entered. You locked the door, your mind filled  with doubts.

But your feet seemed rooted to the spot as Cadmus's gaze finally met yours, "You should be resting," he said gruffly, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

"I can't rest until we talk," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, your thoughts a jumbled mix of emotions: frustration, longing, and a hint of fear.

Cadmus snapped his book shut and rose from his seat, his movements fluid and graceful, like a predator stalking its prey. "No explanations necessary. I've made peace with our fate. We're not meant to be together in this life."

Cadmus drew closer, his eyes burning with hunger, your heart raced and your thoughts grew jumbled. You felt like a rabbit caught in a predator's gaze, frozen in place yet longing to flee. But your words spilled out, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between you: "What does fate have to do with it?"

"Everything," Cadmus replied, his voice low and intense. "Don't you feel anything when I'm near, mi sol?"

You backed against the door, your heart pounding like a horse's hooves. The attraction between you was undeniable, but something held you back from surrendering to it.

Cadmus's hands slammed against the door, his white hair cascading down his shoulders. His vermilion eyes locked onto yours, their gazes lingering in a tense, breathless moment.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* The End *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

[abibliophobiaa]

My sweet babes I'm so sorry allergies are kicking your butt rn ! My dear Luna , Can I pls get a small little look into what our gourgous buttercup and Eddie are up to ??

from the daylight universe

dad!eddie munson x mom!reader

requests are open (general requests for any eddie/steve and scenario, not just daylight ones)!

——

You tried everything.

A choo-choo train. A helicopter. An airplane. And none, absolutely none of the aforementioned options, intrigued your six-month-old. In fact, most of his mushy peas ended up everywhere but his mouth. Coated his high hair tray, his bib, his cheek — even his curly head of hair.

Because every time you went to offer a spoon to your son, his head turned at the last second, whiny cries spilling from pouty lips framed by chubby cheeks. Instead he was too interested in everything happening over his shoulder to even attempt trying a new food for the week, where mere feet away his older sister was playing air guitar with your husband.

“Eddie,” you grumbled, stirring him from his little concert, drawing his attention your way, “help?”

“What? Benny Boy doesn’t like his peas?” Eddie mused, slipping into the adjoined kitchen to press a loud kiss to Benny’s cheek, earning a gummy smile and the cutest giggle. Baby boy was enamored with his dad. “Someone is a little messy.”

He gestured to all the encrusted peas on every surface area of baby Benny’s feeding area. You huffed out a grunt as Elena barreled into your lap, never wanting to miss out on the extra attention of her parent’s.

“He’s your son,” you laughed, pinching at the bridge of your nose as Eddie dragged over a chair in front of Ben, “he doesn’t like anything green.”

“Mommy is being silly, isn’t that right?”

“Mommy always siwwy,” Elena giggled, earning a little tickle from her father before he turned back to his baby and waved the spoon near Ben’s pursed lips.

Ben, knowing what his father intended, pushed his head as far back as he could into the cushion of his high chair. Pushed his face into the furthest corner, eliciting an elongated whine.

“Daddy, sing song,” Elena said brightly, leaning forward in the circle of your arms to grasp at her baby brother’s hand currently waving angrily in the air. “Benny, vegebles make you grow big!” And then she turned to you as Benny broke into a louder cry of anger, “Mommy, why is he yelling?!”

Your hand glided down her head, brushing away some messy curls, “He’s just a baby; he doesn’t know any better. You used to cry when I tried to feed you foods you didn’t like.”

“I did?”

“All the time, sweet girl,” Eddie said, holding up the spoon to his son one more time. “Aww, Ben, come on, buddy.” Eddie cleared his throat, muscle in his bicep shifting as he tried one more time to spoon feed the baby, singing quietly, “Come crawling faster.”

Ben’s eyes sparkled at the sound of his father’s voice, head turning to face him. You grunted out a laugh, because both of your children danced away while they were still on the inside whenever Eddie sang to them. Figured now he recognized it and stood at attention.

“Obey your master.”

“I can’t look at you right now,” you laughed, bouncing Elena on your knee.

“Your life burns faster,” Eddie sang, and Ben giggled, bright and joyful, mouth opening wide enough for Eddie to shovel a bite in.

The moment of truth came in the form of Ben staring at you both, brows furrowed, a little bit of extra peas spilling out from his closed lips. Baby boy’s mouth moved, worked over the contents of his palate, and both of you waited on bated breath to see if peas would be on the menu for the foreseeable future.

Your answer? Food splattering from puckered lips, the sound of his normal bubbles he’d make, paired with the force of his breath sending green sputtering into his father’s face. Eddie closed his eyes, your own laughter unable to be stifled as Benny bursted out into loud, rising giggles.

“Da-ddy,” Elena trilled, her own laughter like little bells in your ears.

Eddie jerked his head over his shoulder, a little glum, sticky with baby food, grimace on his lips. “Not a word from you, Buttercup.”

“Got a little something…” you teased, thumbing at his stubbly jawline, “right here.”

——

“I feel like I still have peas in my hair,” Eddie grumbled later that evening, when both children settled down for a nap.

“Baby food is like glitter.”

You laughed, walking across the bedroom as he rubbed a towel over his wet hair, chest bare, gray sweats hanging low on his hips. Fingers slipped up and over his torso, forging a path over his shoulders, before your arms draped around the back of his neck to hold him close.

“Hi,” you whispered, leaning up just the slightest to press a kiss to his lips, “I’m happy you’re home.”

It had been a long couple of months. He’d barely made it in time for the birth of Ben, your contractions starting while they were just getting on stage for a concert, ramping up much quicker than they did with Elena. By the time you were allowed to push, Chrissy was there to hold your hand, moving out of the way only when your husband rushed in, still sweaty from his show, hair a mess, cheeks reddened like he’d ran from the venue.

You’d tried to come along to as many local shows as possible, but doing so with a newborn at the time proved difficult. Eddie had missed a lot of those first six months, a fact he grieved every day because neither of you planned for your second child to come a few weeks earlier than anticipated. But now he was home, and you couldn’t be happier.

“Missed me?” he teased, voice a low rumble against the curve of your neck, lips seeking out the places he knew had you preening for him in seconds. “Thought about you all the time while I was gone. My best friend, my wife, the mother of my children.”

His fingers dragged up the edge of your silky shorts, toying with the hem of your panties, along the wet spot already forming there, dragging a slow circle along your clothed clit. “Thought about you like this too,” he practically purred, forehead dropping against yours as you gasped against his lips, “when did Steve and Chrissy say they’re taking the kids?”

“Five,” you huffed out an exasperated sigh, craving nearness to him too. He’d only gotten back the night before, had walked over to your bed and face planted into it after holding both your babies tight until they’d gone off to bed. “And then it’s just us. And…a teeny tiny gift I might have gotten you.”

“Are you pregnant again?” His eyes twinkled at the thought, and you shoved him jokingly at the mere notion, though you’d love one or two more in the future.

“I’m going to need at least another year before we think about that — but no, it’s…” You paused, grabbing his hand to lead him toward the garage. “Remember how we’d both said we always wanted a dog?”

“Baby…” He couldn’t help the excitement in his tone, the way his eyes softened and then widened when he saw the golden poof of hair hidden in a box, a giant red bow around his furry neck. “You got me a puppy?”

“Shhh,” you giggled brightly, insides melting as your husband reached down to pluck the puppy from its box, “I haven’t told the kids yet. I wanted to show you first.”

Said puppy wiggled in his new dad’s arms, pink tongue rolling across his chin, his cheeks, his nose, making your husband burst out in laughter at the influx of pure love.

“Welcome home, Eddie,” you said, folding against his chest and patting at the puppy’s head. “I love you.”

He kissed the top of your head as the puppy leaned over to lick your nose. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

——

[toxicanonymity]

Brothel - Dicks

The brothel, aka real housecreeps, is a meta reality show about the Joels and other blorbos. Normally everything is smooth sailing, but we mostly air the drama.

Collect calls SPOILERS

brothel master list

Oh no, a producer leaked a copy of the dick HCs and raider Joel just sent me a dick pic with a ruler for scale, claiming I shorted him. I stared at it for a good 60 seconds, then left him on read. Now someone's knocking at my bedroom door. I ignore it and respond to the pic instead. "Sorry 😬"

Raider, muffled outside my door: Think ya might need a better look. (I don't answer) Can I at least talk to ya?

I put on my robe, begrudgingly let him in, and try not to look at the bulge in his tactical jeggings.

Raider: Production told me to take it up with you.

Me: Tell me you didn't send pictures to production. (Raider is silent.) That's sexual harassment. God damnit, in the middle of your PR tour?

Raider hangs his head and seems sorry until he unzips his tactical jeggings and that's the only reason he was looking down. I'm tempted to make him jack off just because, but I shake my head no.

Raider: Be a good girl for me and it'll be over quick.

Me: are you regressing back to March over this? Don't talk to me like a reader, and don't come in here taking your dick out.

Raider nods solemnly, and I sheepishly add under my breath, "unless I tell you to." The toilet flushes and I nervously look toward the bathroom.

Trouble walks out, fully dressed, buttoning his shirt.

Trouble, to Raider: Didn't I tell you to leave this shit alone, man?

Raider: Pool house, huh? You live in the pool house?

Raider sticks his head into the bathroom and sees there's a big, lavish bedroom connected on the other side and the bed is made. Trouble mouths to me, 'want him to leave?' and I shrug like Idk what to do.

Raider: Can you give us a minute, man?

Trouble: I think you should leave, Raid. I get you're upset but don't bust up in here at 6 in the morning.

Me: Neither of you are leaving.

I put Trouble in the cuck chair, Raider sits on the bed, and I sit down at the vanity to finish talking to him. His pants are still open but I'm not looking.

Me (attempting to be comforting) Hey, anything more than 7" is a waste anyway.

Trouble (7") nods.

Raider: this ain't about sweet pea.

Trouble: that's your issue, man.

Me, to Raider: You're the biggest one either way, why're you pitching a fit over less than a centimeter?

Raider and Trouble look at each other. Trouble shakes his head at Raider like, don't say it.

Raider: We know about him.

Oh, shit. Trouble sighs. I play stupid.

Me: you know about who?

Raider: Jojo.

Me: He doesnt have an HC.

Raider: He has a bulge.

Me: I haven't even seen his dick.

Raider: You've seen his dick print.

Me: How do you--

Raider: All I'm askin' for is accuracy, that's it. Ill do ya a dick print if ya want.

Me: Lemme talk to my dick consultant (@jazziepascal ).

Raider: What'd I do? I used to be your emotional support Joel. Your mental health Joel.

I realize maybe he could've helped me through this month if I spent more time with him.

Me: You still are, c'mere.

I open my arms for a hug. We embrace, but his dick is still hard so it's awkward. After the hug, Trouble is making a face like he wouldnt mind being cucked, but I clear my throat , adjust my robe, and dismiss both of them.

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

Later that day, the men gather in the kitchen. They're huddled around the table and you can't see Night Walks, but they're all talking to him. You can see balled up pieces of paper on the floor and and on the counter there's an open ream of printer paper and an open tub of vasoline.

Thighs Out: I think you've gotta really slap it down.

(loud smack)

Thighs Out: There ya go. Your turn, slasher.

[gratelove]

hello! i hope it's okay to send in an ask message like this. i used to be an active reader for the riverdale fandom, specifically for sweetpea. there was an author on here that i can't find the blog for and several of their stories featured sweetpea x reader. one of them was about the reader learning that archie was cheating on her with ms. grundy and she goes on a run, ending up on the other side of town and getting caught in the rain. sweetpea finds her and takes her to his home and they start a fwb type of fling after that. the reader is also a cheerleader for riverdale high and is ignoring sweetpea in the present time while he is pining after her. would you be able to post this so that anyone who might remember this story can tell the name of the blog? thank you so much!

I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to write a version of this fic or just post your ask to see if anyone recognizes it, but either way, I’m happy to do it!! Thank you for your ask, and here is my version! I hope this helps and I hope you enjoy 🤎

Drenched in Secrets

Sweet Pea x Reader

After discovering Archie’s betrayal with Ms. Grundy, you turn to Sweet Pea for comfort, and what begins as a passionate friends-with-benefits relationship soon evolves into something deeper. As Sweet Pea finally confesses his longstanding love for you, you realize you feel the same, and the two of you decide to stop pretending and embrace the real connection between you.

Warnings: mentions of sex (no details), fluff, kissing, cheating

You were only going to surprise him. Archie had been spending more time than usual in the music room lately, always giving some vague excuse about “extra lessons” with Ms. Grundy. You didn’t think much of it at first; you knew how much music meant to him, and you trusted him. But today, as you walked down the empty hallway toward the music room, a strange feeling settled over you. Maybe it was just nerves, but something didn’t feel right.

You paused outside the door, listening for the familiar sound of Archie’s guitar. Instead, you heard murmuring—soft, intimate voices—and something twisted in your stomach. You took a steadying breath, reminding yourself it was probably nothing, and opened the door.

And there they were.

Ms. Grundy was leaning in close, her hand resting on Archie’s shoulder as she looked up at him with that all-too-familiar, lingering gaze. Then, before you could even process it, her lips pressed to his in a gentle, slow kiss.

Time stopped. Every nerve in your body went numb as you watched your boyfriend—your Archie—kissing her back. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too lost in the moment, but the sound of your sharp, choked breath must have reached him. He broke away, his eyes widening in horror when he saw you standing there, frozen in the doorway.

“Y/N—” he stammered, stepping toward you, his face pale with guilt. “This isn’t what it looks like, I—”

You didn’t wait to hear the rest. With the numbness melting into anger and hurt, you turned and ran, ignoring the sound of him calling your name as you sprinted down the hall. All you wanted was to get away, to outrun the betrayal seared into your mind.

You burst through the school’s front doors and kept running, letting your feet carry you wherever they would. The autumn air was cool and crisp, stinging against your cheeks as you raced down the streets, through familiar paths that blurred in your vision. Eventually, you found yourself on the far side of town, near the old train tracks where few people ever went.

The sky had darkened, heavy clouds looming overhead. And then, as if the universe itself was grieving with you, the rain began to fall—soft at first, then harder, until it was pouring down in thick sheets, drenching you. You didn’t care. In fact, you welcomed it, letting the rain wash over you as if it could somehow cleanse the ache clawing at your heart.

“Y/N?”

The voice was rough, familiar, cutting through the downpour. You turned to see Sweet Pea standing a few feet away, his dark eyes narrowed in concern as he took in your soaked, defeated form. He was dry under the shelter of a nearby tree, but he didn’t hesitate to step into the rain as he moved closer to you.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“That’s none of your business,” you muttered, feeling the sharp edge of your own pain and anger in your tone. You barely looked at him, focusing instead on the cold rain pounding down, grounding you.

Sweet Pea didn’t respond right away, but he slipped off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders, the warmth startling in contrast to the chill. “Come on,” he said, his tone laced with gentleness. “Let’s get you out of this rain.”

Without a word, you let him guide you back through the darkened streets, the sound of the rain filling the silence between you. Soon, you found yourself in his small but warm apartment, your damp clothes traded for an oversized hoodie he handed you. You sank onto his couch, clutching the fabric around you, trying to find some sense of calm.

You hadn’t planned on ending up at Sweet Pea’s place, but after everything that had happened, you weren’t thinking straight. You just needed an escape from the horrible scene that kept replaying in your mind—Archie and Ms. Grundy, her lips on his, and the way he kissed her back. Sweet Pea’s apartment was dark and quiet, a world away from the chaos you’d left behind, and that was all you needed right now.

He watched you carefully as you ran your hands through your hair that was still damp from the rain. He sat in the chair across from you, his gaze steady, waiting for you to say something. You took a shaky breath and finally blurted it out, every painful word. “I walked in on Archie… with Ms. Grundy. They were kissing.”

Sweet Pea’s jaw tightened, anger flickering across his face. “That idiot,” he muttered. “He doesn’t deserve you.” His voice was rough but full of something you hadn’t expected—something fierce, something protective.

Maybe it was that fierce look in his eyes, or the anger bubbling up inside you, but in that moment, you didn’t want comfort. You wanted distraction. You wanted to forget. Without another word, you reached for him, closing the space between you as your lips found his, full of hurt and anger and a need to feel something other than heartbreak. Sweet Pea’s surprise melted away almost instantly as he responded, his hands finding your waist and pulling you off the couch and into his lap.

It wasn’t gentle or hesitant. It was fiery and consuming, like all the anger and hurt pouring out through touch. Sweet Pea knew exactly how to make you forget. He knew all the right spots to make you cry out in pleasure and not pain or sadness. No guy had ever made you feel like this.

That night set everything in motion. What began as a messy, impulsive choice became something you found yourself craving. You and Sweet Pea developed an unspoken agreement, a friends-with-benefits relationship that neither of you acknowledged aloud. Whenever the hurt resurfaced, whenever Archie so much as crossed your mind, Sweet Pea was there, grounding you in ways you never expected. Archie tried multiple times to reach out. He’d called, texted, and even come up to you at school or tried to catch you after cheer practice. You ignored all his efforts. He even tried once while you were with Sweet Pea. The Serpent had stepped in front of you, arms crossed like he was your personal bodyguard. Seeing him do that, seeing him protective of you, it did something to your insides you couldn’t even explain. You had to squeeze your thighs together just hold yourself in one piece. You knew you couldn’t stop seeing Sweet Pea, even if you wanted to. You were addicted. It wasn’t just physical, either. Slowly, you started to feel something else, a comfort and ease in his presence that you hadn’t felt with anyone before.

You made no effort to hide your connection with Sweet Pea, especially when Archie was around. If Archie was nearby, you’d let your hand linger on Sweet Pea’s shoulder or laugh a little louder at his jokes, making it clear that you’d moved on. Sweet Pea didn’t say much about it, but he didn’t pull away, either. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the attention, slipping his arm around your shoulders or brushing his thumb over your cheek whenever he caught sight of Archie watching. His favorite was to run his hand up your thigh, leaving his fingertips under your Vixens cheer skirt.

But the more time you spent with Sweet Pea, the more you realized that he was different than you’d thought. Beneath his rough exterior, he was funny and thoughtful, surprising you with little gestures that showed he cared. He’d tease you during study sessions, pull you into his lap when you were stressing over cheer practice, and always had a quiet, reassuring presence whenever you needed it. You found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated, but you kept it to yourself. After all, this was supposed to be casual, a way to cope with Archie’s betrayal.

Months passed, and the routine you and Sweet Pea shared became something almost normal. Yet you never told him how much he really meant to you. How much his presence had helped you heal. And every time you saw him, your feelings grew, but you kept it hidden, unsure of where he stood.

Then, one night, after a particularly late practice, you walked into his apartment, expecting the usual smirk and dirty comments. He loved your cheer uniform. He normally couldn’t keep his hands off of you when you walked through the door in it, which was most days. But tonight, Sweet Pea looked different. His gaze was intense, troubled, and he barely met your eyes as you stepped inside.

“Sweet Pea?” you asked, confused. “What’s going on?”

He took a deep breath, his expression shifting from troubled to resolute. “I can’t do this anymore, Y/N.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. “Can’t do what?” You knew what he meant, but you needed to hear him say, out of hope that you were wrong.

“Us. This… whatever this is.” He motioned between the two of you.

“Why,” you asked, biting your bottom lip to hold back a tear.

“Because…” he hesitated, running a hand through his hair. He seemed to be searching for the right words, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Because I’ve been in love with you for a long time. Way before this whole thing with Archie even happened.”

Your heart stopped. Sweet Pea’s gaze was intense, the usual casualness gone, replaced by raw vulnerability. “At first, I thought I could handle it,” he continued. “I thought maybe… maybe this would be enough. Just having you around, even if it wasn’t real. But it’s killing me, Y/N. Touching you, kissing you, watching you pretend like this doesn’t mean anything.”

The room was silent, his confession hanging heavy between you. You felt a rush of emotions—shock, confusion, but most of all, a warmth that started in your chest and spread, filling every part of you. Sweet Pea had loved you all along, even when you’d been too wrapped up in Archie to notice.

He looked away, his voice barely a whisper. “I can’t keep doing this if I’m just a hookup to you. I can’t keep being here, hoping you’ll feel the same way.”

You reached for him, your heart pounding. “Sweet Pea… you’re not just a hookup. You haven’t been for a while now. I thought… I didn’t think you’d want anything more.”

He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying I feel the same,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “Somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting this to be casual. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Sweet Pea’s expression softened, a tentative smile breaking through the vulnerability. He stepped closer, his hand reaching to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “So… we’re done pretending, then?”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your chest. “Yeah. We’re done pretending.”

And as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a kiss that was gentle and filled with everything you’d both been holding back, you knew that this was more than just an escape. This was real.

[giggly-squiggily]

*flies into your inbox* SQUIGGILY!! Ahhh the Candy Hearts event is back and I am HYPED!!

I'll cut to the chase - now that I'm not the only Big Windup writer on this site I would loooove to see more from you! Especially with your last fic for it, the way you had their characters so accurate just SENT ME!! 🤩🤩🤩

If I may, I'd love to see platonic!abemiha with the prompt 💚 Sweet Pea: “Is this a bad spot?” and Abe as the lee! Please and thank you in advance! 💖💖💖

*flings over to you* NYM! I'm always happy to see you in my inbox! :D kajrjkaejkrejawkrjakejr You're too kind! I really do love writing these dorks (affectionate) and this is a perfect opportunity to do so! :D I've gotcha covered, friend!

Sweet Pea: "Is this a bad spot?"

“....”

Abe closed his eyes, brow twitching as he felt eyes burning into his back. “What?”

“E-Eh?” Mihasi yelped at the sudden call, shrinking some when the catcher turned to look at him. “Um- I-um..”

“Mihashi. What did we talk about? If you have something to say, say it.” Abe raised a brow as he turned to him, giving the pitcher his full attention. “I don’t speak ummish.”

“Mmph!” Mihashi raised his chin, cheeks pink with exertion. “A-Abe…w-what you said earlier..was it true?”

“What I said?” What was he talking about? He said a lot of things during a game. Mihashi seemed to lose some of his nerve. “Spit it out!”

“E-Earlier! Y-You said you weren’t ticklish here..” Mihashi gestured to his armpits, fumbling some at Abe’s blank stare. “I-Isn’t this a bad spot?”

Ah. So that’s what he was referring to. Abe nearly groaned at the question, but stopped himself when he remembered this was Mihashi he was talking to. “Maybe for you, but not for me. My armpits aren’t ticklish.”

Mihashi stared, the words on his tongue. Abe let his groan out this time, folding his arms over his head. “Go ahead.”

“H-Huh?”

“You clearly wanna try it. Go ahead.”

“O-Oh, um- I..a-are you s-sure-”

“Do it before my arms cramp up!” The catcher snapped impatiently, making Mihashi yelp and rush over, sticking his fingers into Abe’s armpits. Despite the fingers wiggling there, he didn’t react once. “See? Not ticklish there.”

“Wow…” The pitcher sounded almost…disappointed. Abe closed his eyes, sealing his fate.

“My ribs are, though.” Mihashi blinked. Abe raised a brow, ignoring the faint burning of his face. “Pretty bad last I checked.”

He was so easy to read. Mihashi seemed to perk up, eyes lighting like stars as he looked at said spot. With a small glance back for permission, he reached out and began to press.

“Ah!” Abe yelped, struggling to keep his arms up. “Ahehahahaha! Se-ehehehhehehee? I tohohohhold you, dihihihdn’t I?” He danced in place as Mihashi carried on kneading his sides, giggles and snorts filling the air around them. “Goohohohot yoohohohur fihihihihll yhehehehet?”

“Y-Yes! Yes, erm- th-thank you, Abe.” The pitcher released him, fidgeting with his hands as he watched his friend catch his breath. “Now I kn-now how to help you relax..”

“H-help me- That’s why you-” Abe straightened up, making Mihashi squeak and back away. “Mihashi!”

“E-Eek! I’m sorry!” He cried, twisting on his heels and running. Abe gave chase soon after. It wasn’t long before he was captured and detained. “I’m sorry! Abe-eeeeeeeehehehhehehehhee!”

Send me a candy heart and I'll write a dabble for it!

[mirrortouchedsea]

Everyone tells me to just stay the same (but it's not like that)

Word count: 1640

Summary: Hinata finally decides to tell Rinne about his past at Yumenosaki. CW for Setsubun mentions, identity issues, and mentions of abuse

Read on AO3

---

Hinata isn’t entirely sure what compels him to send a message to the leader of Crazy:B. Rinne Amagi had a habit of doting on him and treating him like another younger brother, which he knew Yuta wasn’t a big fan of. Yuta would often call Rinne a bad influence on Hinata, but Rinne was also one of the only people who treated him like a normal kid. 

It was kind of addicting in a way. It wasn’t just Rinne who had treated him like that either. The rest of Crazy:B had taken him in as one of their juniors (despite the fact that Kohaku was younger than Hinata) and Alkaloid, or at least Hiiro, had taken a liking to him as well. He treasured those nights that he spent with Niki and Hiiro playing video games and snacking on homemade sweets late into the night. 

Maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising that the first person he texted was Rinne on the anniversary of Setsubun. It had only been a year and yet it felt so much longer than that. He was grateful that the year since then had been filled with smiles and warmth, much more than years previous had been. The Amagi brothers were partially responsible for that change in his life. 

Rinne responded quickly and asked if he’s alright since he doesn’t normally send cryptic messages like this in the middle of the day. He said he’ll be there in 15 minutes after debriefing with his unit. 

Hinata didn’t bother replying to that, instead opting to just tell Rinne everything when he gets to the rooftop garden with him. He needed to figure out exactly what he wanted to tell Rinne anyway. It’s not in the older man’s nature to judge people based on things they can’t control, and he would understand a lot of Hinata’s own problems…probably. Rinne also wasn’t fond of showing weakness in front of other people. 

Hinata sat at the edge of the garden, towards the back. Being so high up reminded him of that day, but this was almost cathartic in a way. He was in a better place now, with people who didn’t know about that incident at all and cared for him as his own person. As much as he knew Yuta didn’t like the nickname Rinne gave him, it was a comfort for Hinata. 

Hina, such a simple nickname and yet it was a breath of fresh air, a new start, and here he was about to change everything. He just hoped that Rinne wouldn’t change how he talked with Hinata afterwards. 

Hinata was dangling his feet over the edge, looking down at the bustling street below when Rinne finally sat beside him. 

“What’s up, Hina? Somethin’ on your mind?” Rinne’s voice was gentle today, soft and even. Such a strange contrast to the Rinne most people knew. 

“Mmm, you could say that,” he replied, not looking at the older man. “Rinne, have you ever felt like…people don’t see you for you?” 

Rinne chuckled. “Every damn day Hina. Even back home…” he trailed off. Hinata knew not to push that topic. 

The two of them were like peas in a pod in that sense. 

Hinata laughed too. “Yeah, I knew you’d get it.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Rinne waiting patiently for Hinata to keep going and Hinata searching for the words to say. But just having someone else there helped keep him from spiraling too much. 

“I just…feel like people wouldn’t miss me if I was gone, because they see me and Yuta-kun as the same person. It hurts a lot but I don’t know what to do about it because…I feel the same way. Like Yuta-kun and I are one person in two, but that’s not true anymore. I try to keep telling myself that we’re different but it’s hard to change how you think when it’s all you’ve ever known.  

Yuta-kun has so many friends and is always laughing and smiling with them and I want to be like that too, but after ah…” 

“After what, Hina?” 

“After Setsubun fes, people started treating me like I would break at any moment. I’m not grandma’s fine china or anything that will break if you handle it too roughly! But everyone at Yumenosaki can’t seem to get past that video.” 

Hinata still couldn’t look at Rinne, but he knew Rinne was confused. He hadn’t known about Setsubun at all. Of course he hadn’t, he didn’t go to school with them and was much too old to have been there at the same time as Hinata even if he had. It’s why he was drawn to him in the first place, along with his roommates, Niki and Hiiro. 

“Ah, sorry. You don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, do you?” 

“Not a clue.” 

“Long story short, I had a mental breakdown on the roof of the school last year and…it was filmed and everyone at the school saw it. It’s not like I had much of a choice in the distribution either, so everyone was just watching me like I wasn’t a real person.” 

Rinne moved a hand to Hinata’s back and began rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades. There were damp spots on Hinata’s cheeks. He rubbed his eyes with his hands balled up in fists. Why did his lowest moment have to be broadcast to everyone he knew? Why was it made to seem like a spectacle for people to watch and not do anything to help? Even after his monologue to his brother making it clear that he didn’t want to be treated like the same person anymore and not knowing how to distinguish himself without just moving into the background, nobody offered him help. 

He was drowning in the unknown and it took the creation of ES and Crazy:B for him to find a lighthouse to guide him to somewhere safe. Even when Crazy:B was against the entire world, hated by everyone, Rinne and the other members never once hurt 2wink. After their collaboration at the nightclub Rinne had taken a liking to Hinata. He was there for him to lean on when he wasn’t sure about the direction of his unit or how to be a big brother or a good senior to the new first years or just how to navigate life. 

At some point, Rinne had pulled Hinata into a side hug and just let him cry into his side. Hinata leaned into the touch and allowed himself to let it all out. 

Rinne’s hugs were always warm. 

It took several minutes of crying before Hinata ran out of tears. His sobs turned to sniffles and he pulled his legs to his chest. 

“You didn’t deserve any of that, Hina.” Rinne’s voice was serious, but not cold. It was a warm honey-sweetened tea on a rainy day. 

Another stretch of silence. Hinata’s head was spinning and numb and full of cotton. 

“But…I know how it feels. When I was younger, I had to keep my emotions in check, especially in front of other people. Any sign of weakness was always punished by my father. ‘A good leader doesn’t cry’ he would tell me. 

When my mom died, I was…eight or nine. I couldn’t cry at her funeral and when we returned home I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I’ll spare you the details but he punished me severely. I never wanted Hiiro-kun to see me like that again and I made myself stop feeling. It felt like I was just there to be the next leader of the village, never allowed to be myself. 

What I’m tryin’ to say here is that I get it. I know how it feels for people to try and put you in a box that doesn’t fit, and how they treat you when you finally break. It’s okay to be frustrated and angry that it happened, but you can’t let it consume you. Show the world that Hinata Aoi is his own person, that you aren’t just that video and that you’re here to stay.” 

Hinata sniffled and leaned more into Rinne’s touch. 

“Thanks, Rinne-senpai. It means a lot, heh. I guess we all have our own burdens to carry.” 

“Yeah. Life is about learning to carry them and not let them drag you down. If it gets too heavy, I’ll be there to pick you back up and carry it for you.” 

“You don’t have to go that far, Rinne-senpai. How will I learn to carry my burdens if you take them for yourself? Wouldn’t that just make it heavier on you?” 

“I’ll take on everyone’s burdens if it means they get to smile just for one moment. I’ll fight fate itself if that’s what it takes.” 

“I’m not sure why, but I believe that you would find a way to do that, even though most people would say it’s impossible.” 

“Thanks for believing in me, Hina.” 

Hinata laughed, Rinne lightened the mood just enough that he felt like everything was at peace for the moment. His cheeks were stained with tears and his eyes would be puffy and red when he returned to the dorm, but at least he’d be smiling. 

Even if the world was against them, Hinata could count on Rinne at least being in their corner no matter what. Rinne was a lighthouse to people like Hinata, a steady light in the rocky ocean saying that someone is there, watching out for you. 

Despite the front that he put up and how he had a bad habit of pushing people away, Rinne was always there when it mattered. 

Hinata fell asleep curled up on the rooftop as Rinne hummed a gentle melody from his hometown. And everything was right with the world. 

[i-eat-worlds]

Alex & Friends Part 14: Greenwich Park

This is a fun one. cw: violence

The morning started with Eric leading an hour long briefing detailing their operation. It was complete with a map of the area and several photos that had been pulled from Google Street View because of the short notice. He went over the specifics of each person's role.

Avia would position herself on the other end of the pond, concealed by foliage, so that they could be close by if Alex needed help. Aarav would liaison with the local pigeons for aerial surveillance. Joseph would be on the same side of the pond as Alex, far enough behind that he could go unnoticed. Sil would remain with the van, keeping it running so they could make a quick escape. Teri would be in the back, monitoring other signals from the area to make sure that Tindley didn’t call for help, ready to alert the local supers that Tindley had been caught. Finally, Eric would watch the street to the west, and would float as necessary.

When the briefing was finished, Alex waited for everyone to stand up and start gathering their things. Instead, only Teri moved. She pulled out the bag of peppermints that they’d been gambling with last night. “Unwrap it, but don’t eat,” She said as she handed a peppermint to each member of the team. After everyone had received their candy, she smiled widely and counted down from three. “Suck now so you don’t suck later!” The team said in unison, then popped the peppermints into their mouths. Alex smiled a little bit and slipped her own piece of candy into her mouth. She bounced it around in her mouth as she packed her stuff up and slid her knife into her boot.

***

Somehow, Aarav had convinced Nyx to lend them the company van for the morning. They piled into the back of the van. It smelled vaguely like beer, but it was relatively inconspicuous, and most importantly free. The early morning traffic was heavy, but Sil eventually pulled the van into the parking lot.

It was chilly, leaning towards cold, and Alex was glad she’d bundled up a little more than normal. Eric passed out earpieces to everyone, and then they got underway. They fanned out across the southeast quadrant of the park, heading towards their various positions.

Despite the anticipation brewing in her stomach, walking through the park was almost peaceful. Morning bird songs filled the cool, misty air and the light filtered through the tree branches overhead, casting her in alternating shadows. Pea gravel crunched underneath her feet as she walked to the meeting site.

Eventually, the path opened up to a pond. She followed the edge of the pond for a short stretch until she saw Tindley sitting on a bench by the edge. A breath got caught in her throat as she approached him. Ignoring the panic that rose in her chest, she sat down next to him.

“Good morning, Alexis. I’m glad you’re alright.” He said, and it took everything Alex had in her to not to wipe the polite smile off his face.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet,” She said. “I assume you have a plan to get me out of this mess?” Tindley scooted closer, and Alex felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

A voice cracked over her earpiece. It was Aarav. “I’ve got three people approaching from the northwest side.”

Eric quickly responded. “I’ll go check it out.”

“I’ve got a safe house waiting. Off the books, nobody knows about it but me and you.”

Tindley looked pleased with himself as he stood up. Like he’d won. Alex was ending this. She stood up, lining herself up to grab his wrists and make the arrest, when Teri’s voice filled her head.

“It's a trap! Alex, run!”

She quickly turned around and tried to escape down one of the paths. Tindley planted his foot in the back of her knee, sending her tumbling to the ground.

The next voice was Aarav’s. “Four people converging on your location. Northern end is clearest.”

He went to kick her again, and she quickly rolled out of the way. A spray of tiny rocks went up instead.

“I’m going in for back-up.” Avia said.

Alex launched herself at him, tackling him to the ground.

“Beacon’s up. Hopefully local heroes will be arriving soon.” Eric reported.

She climbed onto his back, pinning him down with her legs. Her hands ew to her handcuffs and she quickly secured them around his wrists.

“Bitch,” He said, face pressed against the gravel.

“Shut up,” Alex said.

Avia rounded the corner out a full sprint, stopping when she realized that Alex had subdued him. “Let’s go,” she said, helping Alex hoist him up.

They dragged him behind them as they made an escape from the northern end of the pond. As fast as they could, they ran up the paths, surrounded by immaculate, well kept gardens. Joseph met them halfway up the path, following behind them.

The three of them had just cleared the tangle of paths in the forest and were making a beeline towards the road when they were blinded by a flash of green light. The teleporter popped up from the ground, knife drawn. It was one of the Andros brothers.

“I’ve got Tindley!” Joseph yelled, pulling him out of the path of the teleporter while Avia and Alex engaged him.

The teleporter jabbed towards Alex first, lunging for her throat. She grabbed his arm, deecting the knife away, while Avia kicked his legs out from underneath him. He disappeared in another ash of green.

“Duck!” Alex called as he reappeared behind her. Avia listened, squatting down then turning to face him. She landed a fist in his stomach, causing him to double over in pain.

Avia took the opportunity and pounced, clipping the suppressants around his wrists. Alex was about to call it in when a spray of dirt went flying. Another mercenary, this time an energy manipulator. “Leave ‘em here.” Avia said, and then bolted over the fence, giving a report as she went.

Alex was close behind, jumping the fence, crossing a wide paved path, and entering another green. Joseph was further ahead, about half-way across, with Tindley in tow. Another blast behind them signaled that the mercenary was in pursuit.

The fact that they were still standing meant that whoever was chasing them was only a short range energy manipulator. They might have a ghting chance. “Parking lot!” She yelled at Avia. Cover was going to be key.

Alex could feel the ground vibrate behind her as she cleared the green and ran into the parking lot. She pointed at a white car. “Behind this one!”

They both collapsed behind the vehicle, tucking themselves out of sight as their pursuer entered the parking lot. Alex pulled out a knife from her boot. “Get ready to cuff.” She whispered. Avia smiled back, holding a second pair of restrictors in her hand.

The mercenary had stopped running, and they were now carefully walking through the center of the lot, checking behind every vehicle. Alex and Avia waited in tense silence as footsteps approached their car. They stepped forward, in front of their hiding place, and Alex lunged forward for them. She wrapped her knife around their throat and pulled them back, and Avia quickly strapped the cuffs on. Taking the mercenary with them, they started running to the van again. They were nearly to the van when there was another ash of green, and the metal of a knife glinted in Alex’s vision.

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @sassafrassmoke

[mvvnsseul]

If only it ended that way

➵ Pairings: none

➵Featuring: Younghoon and Hyunjae (TBZ)

➵Warnings: angst, fighting, blood, depictions of violence, mentions of death and car accidents, Bbangmil as bestfriends!

➵ Word count: 1K

➵ a/n: This is my first work on Tumblr, so I am actually a bit nervous but well, here it goes. Hope you guys enjoy it. Reblogs/ feedbacks are very much appreciated.❤️ (Also, apologies for any cringe)

Younghoon stomped up to his best friend, jolting him by the shoulder as he let out a yell. “Watch it, Hoon!” Hyunjae looked up to see thunder drawn all over the guy’s face, a rare sight. 

Without paying any heed to him, Younghoon dragged his collar to the empty science lab which wasn't occupied since the morning. Confusion took over Hyunjae as the other kicked the door shut in rage.

“Hoon, what’s wrong?” His voice held a hint of distress which only increased as his friend turned around, his nostrils flaring up as he walked towards Hyunjae. 

“What’s ‘wrong’? You tell me, Jae? How could you do this?” 

Tears brimmed in his eyes as he blinked them back, his jaw tensed up. Hyunjae’s brows crinkled as he glanced around, utterly confused as currents of panic bolted through his mind. He genuinely had no idea what nonsense his friend rattled on about.

“I swear to god, Hoon, I have no clue what you’re saying!” He yelled at him, making a furious Younghoon lose his patience, slamming a hard hand across Hyunjae’s face as he winced in pain. Holding his cheek, the guy was instantly provoked, a rush of fury filling him before striking his strong fist on Younghoon’s jaw as he fell on the floor, busting his lower lip. He gasped, noticing the blood from his wound imprint the white wooden floor. He coughed, tossing himself on the opposite side with his back to the ground as Hyunjae abruptly charges at him.

“The pictures! You leaked them, didn't you?” Younghoon managed to squeak out as he gripped the brunet male’s collar and knocked another blow, this time in his torso as he let out an agonizing yell, throwing his body beside him. Hyunjae shut his eyes, catching his breath as he groaned, the pain electrocuting his abdomen. His mind began to ponder on what the guy next to him just said.

“What… pictures?” He let out, his stomach giving in to the throbbing ache.

Younghoon breathed heavily, his black hair now damp, sticking to the sides of his face as he turned to look at him. 

“The pictures of the papers I sent you…” He paused to gulp some air, “the ones for… the exam on Tuesday.”

Hyunjae’s mouth fell open as his brain recalled last night. 

It was a well known opinion, more like fact, that the two were extremely pea-brained when it came to geography. And to the professors it seemed a good idea to hold a geography and history exam on Tuesday.

Which was why Younghoon decided to threaten his good-boy image and sneak into the department head’s room and take a peek into their upcoming assessment, all while sending the snapshots of the paper to his best friend. Hyunjae whipped his head in Younghoon’s direction as he grew anxious.

“Wha- no, Hoon, I’d never do anything like that!” His voice slightly trembled as he pushed himself up on his elbow, his wet brown strands intruding his eyelids.

The sounds of uneven breathing filled the room as impenetrable silence followed. Younghoon’s face scrunched in agony as he propped himself up, facing the bruised male. 

“You really didn’t?” Younghoon asked him, his voice calmer than before. Hyunjae shook his head without any hesitation, implying that he, in fact, didn’t do it. 

“I needed that paper as much as you did, Hoon. Besides you’re my best friend, I’d never do anything to put you in trouble.”

A wave of remorse washed over Younghoon as he heard the confession. The teacher had caught him and deducted 20 points off his academic record due to potential breach of staff privacy and cheating, and that angered him, given that he worked his butt off this semester. 

“They’re deducting my points, Jae.” 

“So what?” Hyunjae retaliated, shoving the chestnut strands away from his eyes, “Tell him you aren’t the only one involved in this.”

Younghoon’s eyebrows wrinkled at this suggestion. 

“What the heck do you mean?”

“I mean, tell him I told you to do this.” Hyunjae looked at him with pleading eyes. Despite the intense scars on his face which would put anyone under the impression that he went to war, his face was enough to persuade Younghoon. 

“Wait, but, what about it? I mean, it’s not like it’s going to save me, yeah?” 

“Yes…” Hyunjae began, his eyes infused with thought as he paused for a moment, then continued. “But we will both get points deducted.”

Bewilderment made its way into Younghoon yet again as he raised his brow, scrutinizing his friend. “Seriously?”

“At least we’re both getting in trouble together!” A hint of cheerfulness sparked within Hyunjae’s voice, his eyes gleaming with joy as he shot the guy a sheepish smile. Younghoon rolled his eyes, his lips breaking into an embarrassed grin as he playfully slapped the latter’s arm. 

“God, Jae, you and your ideas!” He remarked as they got up to their feet with their arms swung around each other, the loud voices echoing as they exited the science lab, grateful for the unbreakable friendship they shared.

Younghoon’s eyes blinked him back to reality as the roaring sound of thunder gushed in his ears. His smile faded as he gulped, a cold current running down his spine. Gloomy droplets of rain fell mercilessly just like the tears on his face as dark clouds loomed over him. His gaze shifted to the front, where a gray tombstone rested, with Hyunjae’s name on it. Flowers and pictures surrounded the stone, all overshadowed by the somber atmosphere.

Realization hit Younghoon, paralyzing his movement. He bit his lip as tears swelled up in his eyes, fogging his vision. After their disastrous brawl, the two were suspended and Hyunjae was involved in a fatal car collision, which killed him. Today was his funeral, and Younghoon couldn’t even sort things out with his best friend before he took his last breath. All he could hear now were tumultuous heart beats in his chest as the rain lashed down heavily.

If only he’d have trusted Hyunjae and not blatantly accused him. If only he would've forgave him.

Then maybe Hyunjae wouldn’t have driven rashly and crashed his car. Maybe he would be standing next to him this very minute.

If only things would’ve ended the way it did in his imagination.

[wixelt]

Pearl stumbled upon the portal that Grian was just at. (Hermit tales au)

Okay, wow. Wasn't expecting an AU I put out there over a year ago to come back, but i'm not complaining.

I leave asks open for all my old AUs, after all. :D

The initial thought & 1st part, as context for those newer to my stuff.

---

Hermit Tales AU #002 - Pearl and the Gateway

Pearl has never felt such primal fear as this.

Never felt something that read as such anathema to her own existence.

It permeates her veins and the part of her that was once a Watcher begs - pleads with her to run and never look back. Even after all she's been through - with the Watchers and the Life games and everything else - she's never felt something so visceral.

Something she can be so horrifyingly certain means nothing good.

The Hermits' resident reincarnated farm goddess turned Watcher turned cleaning lady slams to an abrupt stop outside of Grian's base, wings flaring behind her and sending a blast of air and dust in all directions as she halts herself.

The sight that greets feels like the definition of wrong.

The misshapen, bleeding obsidian gateway of serene, green mist looms ahead, simultaneously growing out of and encroaching into the surrounding earth like a tumor.

On any other day, Pearl might throw caution to the wind and investigate, but this fear is so instinctive - so deep after feeling her brother's presence flicker out right after asking after the very thing in front of her - that it roots her solidly to the spot, unable and unwilling to take another step towards this abomination of a gateway.

So instead she does the smart thing and moves backward.

She has far more room to dodge than Grian did when the tendril lashes out at her.

Wings flashing out, she leans around and away from the thing trying to grasp at her, the former Watcher quickly putting as much distance between herself and it as possible.

It catches a glancing blow - Pearl winces and cries out as her veins burn with toxic antithesis, and she stumbles mid-flight for a moment - but she isn't halted, and quickly puts Grian's entire base behind her, moving with frantic rapidity in the direction of spawn.

On the edge of her perception, she faintly registers the portal appendage recede - be it autonomous or directed - its chosen prey now beyond its range.

In the terror, however, she won't remember this detail for days.

Every other Hermit is stirred abruptly from their business, calm giving way to fear and confusion as Pearlescent Moon floods comms with multiple panicked red alert messages.

There hasn't been a high alert since Mumbo called the emergency session to discuss the then-alarming "Big Moon" situation.

And that was orange, many magnitudes less concerning than whatever has sent Pearl into a terrified frenzy.

The Hermits - every last one, every project or curiosity abandoned without a second thought - converge on spawn, each wearing an expression of grim uncertainty rarely seen among the group.

Despite her having raised the alarm, Pearl is among the last to arrive at the spawn lake.

She crashes unceremoniously to the ground in the middle of the gathering - dishevelled and afraid and barely standing as her nerves still sting and scream - it taking both Gem and Impulse together to help her to her feet.

Fighting to stay conscious, Pearl's quickly blurring gaze wanders across her friends one by one until she finds Xisuma.

Admin. Protector. Guardian.

And yet so unaware of the infection on his realm.

But how could he know? How could any of them know?

Pearl's seen the blight firsthand and even she doesn't know.

And yet the words she conveys to X are as honest as they are haunted. They feel as true as breathing, piercing her own heart as she speaks them.

"...Grian's gone."

She can't feel her brother anymore.

Even when he was with the Watchers before her, or off in another world, she's still always felt him out there.

But now, for the first time in her life, he's not there.

He's gone.

She's alone in her head.

Pearl breaks.

---

The Hermit Tales AU is an AU built entirely out of replies to your short prompts, making story & set pieces out of everybody's one-sentence asks & seeing if anything resembling a plot evolved.

If you have anything to throw in, even after so long, feel free. :P

[englishsocietyrso]

Ingredients

When the shift is over what is the first thing you think of? What is my recovery drink, what is for dinner, did I make enough money to pay the bills? First, the drink drowns the buzzing anxiety as the liquid cools the heat of the mind. The last call is made and the patrons leave allowing for the final call to really be made. Glasses clink and the floor is swept as we divulge the chaos of the night. Who was a bitch, which local drunk was slumped on the stoop, who was going home, and who was going out? 

All I can think of is what the hell I am going to consume the moment I get home. 

Something about the bar ruins your love for food: grease, liquor, and bar grime are the worst kind of ingredients. You would think that being a cook means you love food. Sure, I love food…my food. Not the shit I make at work that is deep-fried and smothered in calories. I think I just like to make people happy. Cooking for those around me and chatting with patrons make my night go by quicker. Without the food, I don’t really think I would be who I am today. It may be cheesy but I put everything into what I cook. Whether it is for myself or those around me, everything goes into my food. I finish polishing up my station and returning my knives to their roll as I flip through the recipe Rolodex of my brain. Something quick tonight I am exhausted, pasta is off the list because I hate boxed pasta and have zero effort to make it from scratch. I could make a salad but that is if I still have lettuce leftover from the Thai lettuce wraps I had the other night. 

I know I have some tofu hidden in the fridge and plenty of scraps that need to be used up so a stir-fry it is. 

I send my love and thanks to the bartenders and toss the trash out as I slam the backdoor. Finally, fresh air, the sweat, and the scum of a Saturday night infest my lungs as I take a deep breath. A cigarette enters my lips as I make it down the block, unlit but the notion is still there. It is just a habit at this point, keeps me sane as I make my last turn toward my apartment. 

Thankfully at 3 in the morning, I don’t encounter any neighbors as I pad through the halls of my complex. The dark halls are comforting as the lock of my door clicks open. Finally, sanctuary. No yelling, no glass breaking, and absolutely no one else to invade my space. My keys clink on the counter as I drop my bag to the floor and kick my shoes off in one swift motion. One thing I have adapted from working in the bar is the sheer speed I have getting it off of me. Hot shower, clean sweats, and in minutes I am back over the flame of the stove. 

Vegetables snap and sizzle as I toss them about in the wok. The leftover veggies from the week mix in the oil as they begin to blister and brown. Some bell peppers, an onion, frozen carrots, a handful of snap peas, and shit ton of garlic because I’m not a vampire. The pan crackles when I toss the sauce in, a little soy sauce, sesame oil, rice wine vinegar, a teaspoon of brown sugar, and a large pinch of chili flakes, even with the heaping swirl of Sriracha that ends up on all of my food. As for the protein, I know I have tofu in the fridge but, as for those scraps I mentioned, those need to be used up before anyone gets suspicious of their disappearance. 

Perks of the job, I can cook anything.

[st4rfckerz]

October 18th - Cockbulge

Hay Bale (farmhand!anakin)

word count: 0.7k

warnings: mdni 18+, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names

The sun rises, casting a warm glow over the barn. Anakin's hands grip your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrusts into you. The bale of hay beneath you crinkles, the scent of hay and sweat filling the air. His cock pounds into you, hitting your favorite with each movement. You moan, your back arching, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck Ani,” you gasp, your voice hoarse. “More, please.” He obliges, his hips slamming against yours, his cock driving deeper into you.

“Thaaat's it, sweet pea,” he growls, his voice deep and commanding. “Take it, let me feel you around me.”

Earlier that morning, your parents had left to go to the market, leaving you and Anakin alone in the house. You had been eager to spend some time with him, and the opportunity presented itself perfectly.

As soon as you told Anakin that your parents would be gone for a few hours, a sly glint appeared in his eyes. He pulled you closer, his hands roaming over your warm skin and without warning, he laid you down on the soft hay, his body hovering over yours. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your pretty white dress up to your waist.

Anakin's hands caress your body as he continues to thrust into you, his movements quick and deliberate. You can feel every inch of him, the way he stretches you, fills you, takes you.

“Always so ready for me, huh?” he grits through his teeth. “As soon as your parents leave, you're all over me.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine, your body responding to his words as much as his actions. You arch your back, pressing your hips against his, urging him to go deeper.

Anakin hooks your leg over his shoulder, changing the angle of his thrusts. You gasp, the new position hitting a spot deep inside you that makes you throw an arm across your face, your fingers digging into your palm. Your moans grow louder, more desperate, as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over again.

A knowing chuckle falls from his lips. “See, there you go, I knew you’d like that.” he growls, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper into you. Anakin's eyes pan down to the bulge in your belly, truly amazed at the way he's stretching you. He slows down his movements and marvels at the sight.

“Look at that baby," he coos. “ ‘M filling you up so good.” He runs his fingers over the bulge, tracing its outline through your skin. “I can feel how tight you are around me.” You moan, your body trembling at his touch.

“Ani please,” you whimper, your voice barely audible. “Need to cum so bad.”

Anakin presses his hand against the bulge he's created in your stomach, applying pressure as his thrusts pick up pace once more, his cock plunging into you with renewed vigor. “I know angel, go on ‘nd cum for me.”

As your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking and trembling beneath him, Anakin suddenly pulls out. You whimper at the loss, but he quickly silences you with a hungry kiss.

“Hold on baby, jus’ stay still for me.” he mumbles against your lips. He strokes his cock, his hand moving rapidly up and down his shaft. His eyes are fixed on your trembling body, his gaze intense and focused.

With a final, quick stroke of his hand, his cum spurts right on your stomach. He watches as it drips down your skin, a satisfied smirk on his face.

As you both come down from your highs, Anakin's breathing slowly returns to normal. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Here, I’ll get that.” he chuckles, his voice soft and affectionate. He reaches over to a nearby shelf, grabbing a clean rag and gently wipes the cum off your stomach, his touch tender and caring.

“There, all better,” he says softly, tossing the rag aside. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You should probably get dressed before your folks get back,” he suggests.

You nod, a lazy smile on your face. “Yeah, probably a good idea,” you agree, stretching languidly. Anakin helps you straighten out your dress, his hands lingering on your waist.

“Don’t stay away too long sweetheart.” he says, his voice low and intimate. You stand on your tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Not planning on it.” you murmur, a playful glint in your eyes.

With a final squeeze of your hand, you make your way back to the house, a spring in your step and a smile on your face.

[hiraya-rawr]

Nobleman's Fiancée Brainrot

Fiancé!Diluc x Neglected!Reader x Ayato

about: again with the neglected!lover trope and how you find a spark of happiness in Inazuma

note: brainrot power from this ask!!

As the neglected fiancée of an incredibly busy Diluc, you understand how difficult it is for him to spare time for you, not when the weight of Mondstadt and the alcohol industry of Teyvat lies on his shoulders. It was natural for you to want some fresh air, perhaps a change of scenery, so when you hear about the newly opened Inazuma...

You're out exploring the nation! A few of the Inazuman nobles welcomed you to talk about expanding the business, new trade routes, etc. Of course, you're bound to cross paths with the Commissioner at least once.

Perhaps it was in one of the dinner parties, or maybe you stumbled upon an old friend — Thoma! Your dear childhood playmate or something. You're walking down memory lane chatting with him and it makes talking to Ayato so much easier, so when Thoma goes;

"Oh? You're engaged to Master Diluc?"

Of course, since you're familiar with Thoma, you can't help but let it slip that Diluc is... an amazing person overall, but... it can't be helped that he's too busy for you. You tell them you're here to take a break! To get away from it all for a moment!

Thoma makes it his personal duty to show you Inazuma and accommodate you, and by default, Ayato would sometimes accompany you too. Like two peas in a pod, your dynamic with Ayato is like chemistry. Everything just clicks into place; your personality compliments him in every way and if the concept of soul mates existed, your friendship was the perfect example.

Imagine extending your vacation, sending only a letter to your fiancé about how you'll be staying a bit longer in Inazuma. How you've made business associates out of the Kamisatos and how you rekindled a friendship with Thoma!

You've extended your stay maybe twice now and Diluc's growing a bit worried. You have to go home eventually. It isn't right to just stay in a foreign country while your fiancé is halfway across Teyvat – so you're packing up your bags, ready to leave.

Goodbyes are always tearful, but Ayato seems on-edge, unsettled like there's something weighing on his chest that he has to admit. He knows this is the last chance for him- the next time you ever visit Inazuma, you'd be married already.

Maybe you're calmly waiting for the ship, or waiting for the rain to disperse before heading to the port when Ayato stands by your side.

It's quiet and he doesn't look at you, you wonder why he's there.

"Don't go," He says.

"What?" You tilt your head.

"Don't go." He repeats and you suck in a breath, heart heavy because you know what he's implying yet you can't help but ask.

"Why? Why can't I go?"

"You know why."

And it's ridiculous because you're both people of high positions, marriages are strictly planned and you can't just... stop everything because of some silly crush? some infatuation over a man you've only known for a few months. You're frustrated, there's a lump in your throat, you think back to the Dawn Winery where your fiancé could never spare a glance at you and you wondered if you'll be content with that for the rest of your marriage life.

"Ayato, no."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"No, you can't- you can't just– admit something like this just when I'm about to leave," You splutter out.

"I know, I am aware, I'm sorry."

"I'm leaving Ayato, I'm leaving," You sob and it sounds like you're convincing yourself of your own decision.

"I know and I'm not stopping you, but I-" He gestures to himself, finally facing you, "If I don't admit it now, I feel I would regret it for the rest of my life so please, Y/N. I won't ask you to stay," He says solemnly, "I just want you to know that... I don't think I could ever forget you."

It hurts that he's right not to ask you to stay. Staying would socially ruin you both. High society would not speak lightly of you and Ayato; He would be a fiancée thief and you would be someone caught in the snares of infatuation, foolishly ending an engagement because you felt a little lonely. You leave each other without resolving your feelings. He wasn't there when the ship left port nor were you on the deck looking for him.

In the distant future, perhaps you'll meet again at dinner parties or business meetings; you'll exchange smiles and courtesies.

You'll introduce him to Diluc.

"Remember that one summer so long ago? Yes, he accommodated my stay in Inazuma, dear."

Ayato would nod and shake his hand with your husband.

He acts like it's a coincidence that he brought you your favorite souvenirs from Inazuma as a gift, things you missed and longed for.

You'll smile and make small talk as if you've never stayed up for nights talking about the oddest of things with him, you'll hold back on a stupid inside joke over dinner when a hotpot event gets a little too nostalgic for you two, it's deja vu when he politely escorts you, hand resting on the most socially acceptable part of your waist.

You are both memories of a summer you buried your feelings in.

P.S I was wondering why this confession scene seemed so familiar, it's actually close to the confession scenes in "Little Women"! Search it up, istg the tension is amazing!!!

Little Women Laurie/Jo Little Women Laurie/Amy (skip to 1:24)

ayato: don't go

also ayato: i wont ask u to stay

[johnsuhsposts]

a short jeno drabble x fem!reader (m) for mature

~~~

a/n: hi again! sorry, idk but i've been obsessed with jeno ffs lately and i just wanted to write something to expand my ideas for you all to enjoy! <3

~~~

scenario: jaemin is your ex. jeno is his bestfriend. you hate to admit it but jeno gives it to you waaaay better than jaemin ever did.

warnings: vulgar language, mentions of jaemin, smut ;))

tags are at the bottom!!

~~~ title: am i better?

You both moan as Jeno slips his cock in, your warm walls clenching deliciously around his size.

"Fuck baby. You feel so good. You take me so well." he says in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

He then subtly grinds into your pussy, groaning at how your wetness dripped down both his and your thighs.

"Am I better than him?" You hear Jeno say, huffing as he gets used to being inside you.

Your fingernails rake down his back, causing him to hiss out of pain; but it was soon replaced with pleasure as he drew his hips back, slamming into you with so much force that it knocked the air out of your lungs.

"Yeah- yes." You breath out. Taking in everything Jeno had to offer.

You think back to when Jaemin would fuck you. He always was slow and soft at first, eventually being rougher towards his release. You kind of missed it.

Though, Jaemin was good at sex, Jeno was better. Jeno had always been better than Jaemin. You just didn't seem to notice until now once he was balls deep inside of you.

They were two peas in a pod, Jeno and Jaemin. But now here you were being an absolute slut in front of your exes best-friend.

A moan makes its way past your throat, causing you to slap a hand over your mouth.

Jeno looks down at you, chain hanging over your face. "Don't try to be quiet. It's just the two of us."

His balls slap loudly against your ass, and your eyes roll back.

His hand reaches for your wrist, easily peeling your hand away from your face and your mouth falls open as he gradually picks up speed.

Your back arches off of the bed, his large hands going to cup your chest, flicking your nipple. You moan louder. He chuckles.

Jeno smiles at you, watching as you slowly come undone just for him. You then feel his fingers rub your clit. It feels so good.

He's glad that you left Jaemin to say the least. Jeno has always wanted you. He's always been jealous of Jaemin.

But now that he has you, he'd record your slutty moans and brag about how he fucks you so much better than Jaemin ever did.

~~~

Thank you so much for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed it! I will write more soon.

(Original work. Please DO NOT copy.)

Thank you so much for 500 notes! <3